


The Only

by DylanCruca



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 91,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8448310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DylanCruca/pseuds/DylanCruca
Summary: After Jane is taken by the CIA at the end of season 1, Weller decides to find where she's being held and bring her back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N-I wanted to imagine how things could have been if Weller would have tried (and succeeded) to find Jane at the end of season 1. I'm new to the fandom, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. This fic goes "off-canon" from the finale of season 1. It will be a multi-part fic. Thanks for giving my story a try. I hope you like it.
> 
> I don't own the characters of Blindspot.

  


**Chapter 1**

Weller was angry…no, he was furious. It was easy to target a normal enemy, to hate them within appropriate parameters, hunt them down, and turn them over to face justice. Of course, if they'd threatened him or his team or his family, often those enemies died if they weren't willing to be brought to justice. And that was just fine as far as he was concerned.

Then there was Jane. Why did she have to constantly break out of the nice, orderly, understandable categories that it was easy to box people in? Earlier he'd been planning exactly what they were going to do together, alone, late at night. He craved some time with her without so many watchful eyes on them, or guns pointed in their direction. As hard as he'd tried not to anticipate any certain outcome from an after work rendezvous, his mind refused to remain chaste. He kept imagining things progressing just a bit further than they ever had before. His mind kept circling to a kiss on his sofa, the moment when it became clear that she was okay with things getting a little heavier between them. He could already feel himself tugging her shirt away from her body. He could feel the way her bare arm would slide around the back of his neck as her arms encircled him, and he could imagine the weight of her body as she settled on his lap. He kept trying to stop the fantasy right there. After all, he didn't want to rush her. But just the thought of her almost naked torso pressed against him was enough to make him feel a twitch of excitement. He knew how he would react, should things get this far, should a gentle kiss deepen to something more passionate…

He was okay if she didn't want things to go further, he'd convinced himself repeatedly. He never wanted to push her. He wasn't going to fuck this up.

But now it WAS all fucked up, wasn't it?

One day he was trying to think of ways to cling to patient restraint, and the next thing he knew, he was arresting her. A million dreams shattered with the click of the handcuffs. Everything that had been growing and building between them was suddenly decimated. And then she was gone.

That night, he went home, determined to drink away his irritation and pass out in his bed. The first few bourbons led to an ample buzz that he thought would carry him to sleep, but as he lay there, he felt the buzz pass as his body decided he wasn't tired at all. He had a million questions to ask her. He tried to think of the ways she could be innocent just as he could feel his mind condemning her with each thought. He had to see her. He needed her to tell him, in her own voice, exactly what was going on. He needed to hate her or love her, but things were so intense between them that he doubted he could feel anything in between.

He didn't trust the CIA. They clearly didn't want anyone to know where she was going to be held. But he was Kurt Weller, dammit. He knew people. Good people. Shady people. Someone had to know where she was.

He got up and, with irritated determination, he got dressed. He was going to find her no matter where she was.

* * *

After two months, of searching, interrogating and threatening anyone who he thought might be able to give him any sort of clue, he was no closer to finding her. And then he found one single lead. He embarked on this quest alone, secretly. Zapata, Reade and Patterson were still angry. They'd let Jane in, trusted her, and she'd betrayed that trust. Weller wondered if she knew how hard it was for such a cohesive team to let someone new into the fold.

He was hurt, too, and angry. He was angry at her for betraying him and lying. He was angry at himself for letting her in. After all, deep inside, he knew exactly how he'd felt about her before everything went bad, even if he wasn't about to admit that even to himself. He wondered if she'd tricked him, or if those looks, her kiss, that adoring smile that cut right through his defenses, was all part of a game. She couldn't have fooled him, could she? He was trained. He should have been able to tell if he'd been played.

* * *

Jane had been through absolute hell. She had pulled on all of the training she could remember to survive. And she'd told her tormenters absolutely nothing. They had tried to shock, drown, cut, starve and beat the truth out of her, but she wasn't about to allow them to break her.

When she'd first been taken, she was so angry. She knew her team would be upset, but they'd never even allowed her to explain. She never thought Weller would hand her over so easily, without even a few minutes to talk to him. After all, she knew she'd made mistakes, but she really had wanted to protect him…all of them. They had become her family.

She hadn't thought about any of her old team for days. Or maybe it had been hours or minutes or weeks. She couldn't even tell any more. She'd drawn into herself, turning off her emotions and sensations. She couldn't think about them. She couldn't wonder about why they'd given up on her so easily. Knowing that Weller handed her over hurt more than the electric shock that was coursing through her body. She was systematically shutting down, turning reality into a dream. Her only sharp thoughts focused on watchful waiting. She was going to find a way out of there. It was all a matter of biding her time.

She was hanging there, again, as she carefully dissociated from her body. The pain was a distant echo. She wasn't sure how long her body could hold out, but inside, Jane, or whatever her name was, was slowly shriveling away behind the protective wall. She knew, vaguely, that her shoulders had both dislocated while she was hanging. She ignored bruised or broken ribs on one side, blistered burns from electric shocks and bruises that covered her body so thoroughly that they rivaled her tattoos for coverage.

She remembered bits and pieces of the training that had allowed her to sustain such thorough, constant torture, but clearly she'd been so well trained that her body automatically knew what to do. There was an interruption in her autopilot functioning as she heard a commotion and saw some of her captors turn their attention to something else. She felt the next blow as a fist smashed into her ribs and the pain flashed through her defenses and coursed through her nerves. She opened her eyes just in time to see a bullet pierce his skull as his body slumped to the ground.

Jane refocused, returning to her inward training and ignoring the pain, looking for her opportunity to escape. It was going to come. It had to. She froze when she heard that gravelly voice question, "Jane, are you alright?"

She tried to turn but her restraints made it difficult, so she waited until he came in to sight. Maybe it was a dream, but it sure as hell looked like Weller standing before her. She saw how his expression changed as he looked at her, realizing the full extent of the hell she'd endured. He looked around the room, the reality of her life crashing in on him. His voice cracked for just a moment as he said, "We don't have much time. We need to get out of here."

She nodded, still unable to answer. She was, even at that moment, largely emotionless. She looked up at her hands and the restraints that held them.

"We don't have a choice," he added. "We need to trust each other. Face it, we're both on their shitlist now. You wouldn't believe what it took for me to get here. Whatever we need to work out will have to wait. Don't make me regret this. If we both want to get out of here alive, we're going to need to work together."

She nodded, knowing that the first step to freedom was to get out of that hellhole. She could worry about how to get away from Weller later. He released her to the floor, dropping her even though he tried not to cause more damage. She stood, freed from the ceiling, but with her hands still shackled together, and immediately she saw one of the guards charging at Weller. She spun around, her muscle memory kicking in as she dispatched of the attacker. Weller nodded his thanks, obviously pleased that she'd chosen not to attack him.

"There's a van waiting for us," he whispered, gesturing for her to follow him.

She hadn't seen daylight since she'd arrived, and it was so overwhelmingly bright that pain thudded through her brain when she stepped into a garage. She and Weller quickly overtook everyone they found in the garage before she followed him out. They were surrounded by woods, the only road leading out was dirt and stone. A black van down the road looked like their salvation…she just wanted to get in and drive as far away from that place as possible, no matter who she was with. As an explosion rocked the vehicle, flipping it into the air and consuming it in white-hot flames, her hopes were crushed.

"Dammit," Weller yelled, pulling her into the forest to find their escape.

They got as far as they could as quickly as they could, because it wouldn't be long before someone was investigating. "Stop here," Weller ordered as they dropped into a ditch carved by a creek that was thinly babbling behind them. "Can you keep going?" he asked roughly, noting her wary condition.

She stared for a while longer. It had been so long since she'd used her voice, she wondered if she still knew how. Finally, feeling tears welling, she said, "How could you turn me over to them to be tortured? Do you have any idea what-"

"I didn't turn you over," he immediately interrupted. "No matter what happened, I would never do that to you."

"You arrested me."

"Not to be tortured," he answered. "I didn't know they were going to take you, but it's my job to protect this country. And after all of the lies…"

"I was trying to protect _you_ ," she argued. "I was trapped. I was put in an impossible situation and-"

"You could have come to me with the truth," he interrupted again. Somberly restating, "You _always_ could have come to me."

"They threatened you," she said. "I had to do what they wanted, or they would have killed you."

Their eyes burned into each other with pain, confusion and sadness, the sun quickly setting on the horizon. He shook his head, "I don't know what to believe. But until I do, I'm not taking any chances." Her hands were still shackled together, but he took another pair of handcuffs, cuffing her one wrist to his. "We have to keep moving."

He took a few steps and she called out in pain. Her defenses were disappearing as she started to come back out of her self-induced protective fog. Weller looked at her, trying to assess the problem. He stared at her shoulders and said, "Hold still."

He reached out toward her, quickly popping one dislocated shoulder back into place and then the other. "Thanks," she replied, struggling to get the words to emerge.

"Don't screw me over, Jane," he warned.

"I'm not going back," she argued.

"First things first," he countered, "We need to find some supplies and a way out of here."

* * *

They made their way to higher ground, hoping for a vantage point that would allow them to see.

"Where are we?" Jane asked.

"West Coast," Weller replied.

"That's pretty general," Jane answered, a little winded. "You're not going to tell me?"

"That's all I know."

"How did you find me if you don't even know where we are?"

"You weren't exactly easy to find. The people who brought me to you had me blindfolded. I couldn't hear, I couldn't see."

She pulled on the handcuffs that joined them until they were facing each other. "Thank you," she said somberly, looking him straight in the eye and nodding slightly to emphasize her point.

He nodded back, only slightly moving his head. "You're welcome," he replied. Then his mood darkened, "I don't think you deserved torture, but you do need to face justice. Everything is not fine here."

"I know. I know it's not. For either of us. But you have to believe I was trying to protect you. We can argue about this later. Let's figure out where we're going. Do you have your phone?"

"No. And if I did, I certainly wouldn't turn it on. We can't risk being found right now."

"Zapata or Reade? They must be looking for you."

"They aren't. I took some time off. I'm supposed to be sitting on a beach in Miami."

"Surely they don't believe that."

"They probably don't, but I don't think they were ready to forgive and forget what you did, so I kept the details of this little mission to myself."

"Who knows you're here?"

"The people who were in that van. I doubt anyone survived that explosion. We're on our own."

"Let's move," she answered.

He could see the pain she was in as they moved and it still hurt him to imagine her suffering. He said, "If you break my trust now, there will never be any going back. Is that perfectly clear?"

"That goes both ways," she answered.

He sighed, but quickly picked the lock on the handcuffs that the CIA had put on her, leaving only one cuff, the one that was attached to his wrist, and they continued on their way for what felt like hours.

They both saw it at the same time, just as thick drops of rain began to slap the ground. About a half mile further, there was a house. The place was large and sturdy, a home, built of heavy logs with large windows across the front to allow the occupants to enjoy the mountain and trees that surrounded them. At exactly the same time, lights came on at different places throughout the house.

"They're on a timer," Jane noted.

"Possibly a vacation home," Weller responded.

"How do we know when they're returning?"

"We don't. He grabbed a pair of binoculars from his gear and turned his attention to the detached garage. It was nearly as big as the house. "Let's check out the garage. A roof is better than no roof. From there, we can regroup."

The two took off for the garage, careful to avoid motion detector lights. There were obviously several security features on the main house, but the garage was relatively unprotected. Once inside, they noticed a large empty bay, probably for a boat or camper. One far end of the garage had camping supplies neatly organized on shelves and several canned goods. Even the thought of food made Jane's mouth water.

Weller pointed his sidearm to a set of stairs that led to a second floor, motioning for Jane to follow behind him…not that she had much choice because they were still cuffed together.

They crept and quietly as possible to a locked door on the second floor. Jane dropped down, taking the pick from Weller so he could cover them with his gun if needed. Once they looked inside, there was a full apartment. It was sparsely furnished, with a futon, small refrigerator and microwave, television and bathroom. "Doesn't look like anyone's been living here for a while," Jane noted.

"Probably a guest suite or in-law space," Weller answered, feeling a thick layer of dust on top of the microwave.

"This looks good for the night," she said.

* * *

All of the blinds were closed, which gave them some cover, but they were careful not to turn on too many lights or call attention to their location. Quickly gathering cans of food, bottles of water and a few lanterns from the garage below, they settled in. They used lanterns instead of the brighter overhead lights just in case someone would pass by or come to occupy the main house. Weller knew she must be starving. He wondered when they'd last fed her, and doubted it was anything palatable. They'd agreed, hesitantly, to remove the handcuffs while they ate. They both knew, they had a much better chance of survival together.

He heated food in the microwave, watching while Jane practically inhaled two large bottles of water. She knelt on the ground, sitting on her feet, her hands folded on her lap. She just stared at nothing in particular. It seemed like part of her was still trapped in that cell. "You okay?" he asked, worriedly. Even if she wasn't Taylor Shaw, he couldn't shut down the protective instinct he always seemed to feel for her.

She nodded, not even looking up, as he handed her a paper cup filled with soup. She hurriedly tipped it into her mouth, drinking the contents in a matter of moments. Then something seemed to pull her out of her daze. "You're bleeding," she said, pointing at his leg and then at his torso.

"They _really_ didn't want anyone getting to you," he commented, finishing his own dinner.

"You better clean that up," she suggested.

He tilted his head and shook it, "You want me to leave you alone here and give you time to ditch me."

"No," she answered with thick frustration. "I'm going to prove it all to you. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm loyal to _you._ "

Weller didn't _disagree_ , but was still hesitant. "Come on," she said, standing and walking to the bathroom.

Once the door was closed, she turned on the lights in the small, tight bathroom. Then she could see the extent of his injuries. His leg was bleeding where it looked like he'd caught some wire or a knife. Something had cut through his jacket and shirt and hit his torso. His cheekbone was darkening as a bruise formed and his hands were rough and bloodied at the knuckles. A small first aid kit was under the sink. Weller had snatched a six pack of cheap beer from the small fridge before he joined her. He took one for himself and handed one to her. It was tepid since the fridge wasn't very cold, but he didn't care. Jane took a few sips and then said, "Get that shirt off."

Weller dropped his jacket and torn shirt into the sink, looking down at his side to check the damage. It was probably a bullet wound, judging by the combination of burnt skin and open flesh. Fortunately it had only skimmed him, but it was still bleeding. Jane gingerly pushed him back so he was leaning against the sink. She cleaned his wound as best as she could with their limited supplies. From the kit, she grabbed a few butterfly sutures and antibiotic spray and patched him up as he sipped a second beer. Things had changed so much. Not too long ago, he was imagining her fingers moving over his body, but he certainly hadn't hoped she'd be patching a bullet graze. This was the closest they'd been in so long, and they could barely trust each other. As angry as he was, as hurt and betrayed, the thing that really stabbed at him the most was how much he still loved her. He shoved those feelings down, knowing that patching up this relationship, for lack of a better word, with Jane was the absolute least of his problems.

She grabbed his belt and tugged, watching Weller's eyes open a little wider at her actions. Of course he didn't even bother to argue. He knew she wasn't looking for sex right now, and even if she was, she definitely didn't want him. Besides, she could easily argue that her naked body had been displayed all over the offices they had once shared, so this certainly wasn't a big deal. Still, even hurt and exhausted, there was a warm hum that spread through him when she shoved his pants down to the floor.

She tended to his leg wounds, slices along his ankles and thigh, as he stood there in his boxers, sipping his beer and trying not to look down at the way she knelt before him, caring for his wounds. When she finished and stood, he grumbled, "Let me see that," as he pulled his tattered up pants off the floor and put them back on.

She shook her head, but he already took her hand in his. His calloused fingertips carefully brushed her palm while he held her hand, looking at the angry marks left around her wrists. He carefully bathed her wrists, blistered and abraded after the torture she'd endured, in cool water and antiseptic. She was amazed that someone so rough could have such a tender touch. He reached for the bottom of her shirt, waiting for her to agree to remove it. She tried to do it, wincing as pain rushed through her shoulders, so he carefully helped remove it. She dropped the plain prisoner's shirt and pants in the small garbage can. "I don't ever want to wear those again," she explained, standing there in the institutional underwear she'd been given in captivity.

He rubbed some cream on the burn marks he found on her body from electric shocks. There were too many cuts and bruises to count. He'd never wanted to protect someone and hunt them down at the same time as much as he did Jane. Of course everything about her pulled him in different directions. She was too numb to feel much of anything.

They turned out the lights in the bathroom before going back out into the main room. They both looked out the windows, making sure no one was in the main house and that they were still safe.

"Are we going to take turns sleeping?" she asked.

"You go first," he replied.

She settled on the futon while he took a spot in a chair, gun in hand, and leaned back, keeping careful watch.

He watched as exhaustion took her into a deep, unavoidable sleep. She dreamed, obviously remembering unpleasant things, and he wondered how she was still alive after all she'd been through. He wondered how she could be the toughest and most vulnerable woman he'd ever known. Strangely, being with her, even in a situation like that, felt so much better than how life had felt without her.

 


	2. Chapter 2: Never Let Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Thank you so much for welcoming me, everyone! This is such a great fandom. I'll try to make sure I post at least one update per week, if not more. I apologize in advance for any errors.

**Chapter 2: Never Let Go**

She woke after only two hours, her senses still heightened and nerves shot. With each moment since she left captivity, her consciousness, emotions and sense of self started to return. She didn't want them to come back, not yet. Reality was so filled with pain and heartache, she wasn't ready to feel the full impact of it yet. Weller was still sitting, guarding her…or maybe guarding himself from her, as he listened to the local news on a small television. She knew exactly how messed up this whole situation was when she realized she felt safer being guarded by Weller, who very well may have become an enemy, than she'd felt in a very long time. She remembered, for just a moment, how wonderful it used to feel when she was overwhelmed or sad, and he'd wrap his arms around her. She remembered the way he felt and smelled and the sound of his heartbeat in his chest when she'd rest her head against him. Now that was all gone. She was probably fucked up beyond repair if she was actually grateful to be sleeping under his watchful eye and sidearm.

He must have noticed she was awake because he said, nodding toward the television, "Looks like someone was covering their tracks."

On the screen, she watched a news report about a building that was completely destroyed when a supposed gas leak caused an explosion. "That was where I was being held?" she asked, sitting up.

"Yea. That's it. I don't know who did it though. Maybe CIA. Someone I know covering for the fact that I broke in there and killed a few people. Maybe one of your people."

"My people? I don't have my own people," she argued immediately. "You and the team…you _are_ my people. I've told you, all I wanted to do was protect you. And them. I loved working those cases. I loved saving lives. I loved being part of the team."

He nodded, trying to silence her protests. "Fine. Maybe the people who think they're your people."

"This means someone probably knows I got away."

"Yea. Which means we need to get an early start."

Weller slept for two hours, enough to give him some strength to keep going as Jane kept watch. She was surprised that he trusted her enough, but then again, he didn't have many options. Given the abrasions on her wrists, she was grateful he didn't handcuff her to anything.

Once he woke, they hurriedly cleaned up all of the evidence that they'd been there. Jane picked up her prisoner's clothes from the garbage in the bathroom, holding them in her hands and staring as memories of captivity filled her thoughts. Something nudged her shoulder, and she reacted automatically, lunging back and jamming Weller down to the floor. Pressing her knee into his chest to hold him down, she was ready to unleash her fury because her body was still in fight-or-flight mode. But Weller caught her fist and said, firmly, "It's just me, Jane." She stopped swinging, but kept him pressed down against the floor. "It's me…Kurt. And I am never going to hurt you."

"Sorry," she mumbled, standing and offering a hand to help him up. "I overreacted."

"I think we need to operate under the assumption that you're probably experiencing some post-traumatic stress. You can't go through what you went through and expect to be objective and calm."

"Still."

"I'll be more careful…make sure not to sneak up on you. I just wanted to give you this backpack I found. If we each carry a few supplies, they should last a few days."

* * *

Down in the garage, they gathered a few of the camping supplies the owners had stored there. They grabbed a tent, small lanterns, and numerous other items that they crammed into her backpack and a large hiking pack that he intended to carry. They mostly took things that were stacked toward the back of the shelves behind other things so if someone were to return, they wouldn't immediately see the missing supplies.

Jane found a trunk with old army uniforms and a few other clothes the previous owner didn't wear any more. She grabbed the smallest pair of fatigues, a tank top, and field jacket. The boots she found were a little large, but would certainly protect her feet. They gathered a few more things, not enough to weigh them down, and were ready to go. As uncertain as everything felt, at least she was back in a more comfortable circumstance: basic survival.

They weren't exactly sure where they were going, but they knew they had to get farther away. After a few hours of hiking through the dense forest, and along the mountainous terrain, they were beyond exhausted, but neither would give up. They didn't speak much, focusing their energy on continuing. Weller had obviously been thinking, because he suddenly broke the silence when he turned and asked, gruffly, "Why? Why did you do it? We welcomed you…I welcomed you. I thought—I don't know. I thought there was something here." He gestured back and forth between them. "Did you play me? Was that all some game to get close and manipulate me? Or maybe I—did I imagine it all?"

"Every personal moment between us…it was real. _Very_ real. I never played you. There were things I did that I know you aren't happy about, but I didn't have a choice. I had to protect you."

"You didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth? If they were trying to control you, why didn't you come to me for help? I could have helped you."

"Do you really want to know?" she asked. "And if I tell you, will you even believe me?"

"One way to find out," he shouted over his shoulder as he started hiking again. "Besides, it isn't like we have anything else to talk about."

As they walked, she talked to him about Oscar, Mayfair and Carter. She could see the pain the loss of Mayfair had caused him. She told him about memories she'd discovered while in captivity. He quietly listened, and she could seldom see his face. She doubted this would really fix anything, but at least she knew that, if they were separated again, she had the chance to tell him the truth. She didn't know if things were okay between them. She didn't know if she'd made things better or worse with her honesty. And Weller wasn't giving her any clues.

* * *

They only paused a few times to rest over the next couple of days as they kept going. Weller was silent, except for the occasional comment about their plans. Jane had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, and that was slightly terrifying.

The showers that had followed them on and off for the entire journey became an all-out deluge. Both were miserable and sore, but since they were both strong and tenacious, neither would surrender.

They were walking along a particularly precarious cliff when they started to feel the mud beneath their feet grow softer. Suddenly the ground just below Weller shifted, and he began to slip. Instinct made him reach for anything to grab onto, but to no avail. Just as his heart began to sink, knowing that, if he survived at all, this was really going to hurt, he saw Jane dive for the edge and abruptly catch his hands just as he fell over the edge. Above him, eyes frantic with concern, she held on with all she had. In spite of the injuries to her shoulders, her fatigue and his weight compared to hers, he could see by the look in her eye that she was not going to drop him. Through gritted teeth she assured him, "I've got you. And I'm not letting go."

Working together, they used all of their combined strength to pull him up and both dashed quickly along the mountain to a sturdier spot. They tripped and fell onto the firm, rocky ground, breathless with hearts pounding. Jane pulled his head to her shoulder, whimpering slightly when she realized her other arm wouldn't move, but she held onto him anyway. It didn't seem to matter how he felt about it, she was going to hold onto him with all of her power.

He actually didn't pull away, resting his cheek against her as he steadied his nerves. He lifted slightly, and found himself looking directly into her eyes. They were so close and, in spite of all of the reservations he had, he didn't back away. Their faces were so close that they could feel each other's breath.

A loud crack of thunder startled them just as the space between their lips became almost undetectable. He grabbed his sidearm from the holster and scanned the area to make sure it hadn't been a gunshot he'd heard. When he realized there weren't any immediate threats, he tucked away his sidearm. "Guess you're not the only one who's a little jumpy," he mumbled.

When he saw the strange way she held her arm, he realized that she'd dislocated her shoulder again while helping him. She was probably going to need surgery to repair the damage that had been done.

He reached forward, his hand slipping under her jacket to her shoulder as he helped put the joint back in place yet again. "You better be careful with that. Seems like you tore something in there," he noted.

"Yea," she replied, keeping her voice steady as she rubbed the sorest spot. "Thanks for popping that back."

He chuckled for a second, shaking his head and replied, "I figured I should at least do that, given that you just saved my life…again. So I think I should be thanking you."

"You rescued me. You think I'd let anything happen to you?"

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, deciding firmly, "No. I don't think you'd let anything happen to me. Not intentionally."

Thunder cracked again and the rain somehow managed to pour more fervently.

"Maybe we should actually make camp for the night," she suggested. They hadn't really stopped for more than a few hours since they'd left.

"Yea," he answered. "We've both earned some sleep."

* * *

After they found a good spot, he pulled the hiking pack from his shoulders and dropped it on the ground. A spot next to a rock formation would at least provide them shelter on one side. He yanked the small tent out of the bag and they set it up.

It took nearly an hour, but they were finally done. Jane rigged a few containers to catch rain water since their drinking water supply was getting low. When she was done, she swapped her clothes, stripping down to a tank top and a pair of swimming trunks she'd stolen from the garage they'd stayed in a few days earlier. She tried to use the pouring rain to clean some of the mud and grime from her clothes and body. She'd requested a few moments of privacy, but she was pleased that Weller seemed to trust her enough to stay in the tent. It was hardly the hot bathtub she wished she had, but at least it was something. She took her soaked but cleaned up clothes and strung them below a tarp that stretched from the tent so at least they'd dry a little.

She lowered down, unzipping the tent and crawling in. Kneeling because the tent was low, she straightened herself, walking on her knees, and practically ran into Weller. He was seated on an open bedroll, waiting for her to return. Her tank top was thin and white, practically see-through from the rain. She saw the way his eyes lingered, staring at her nipples as they jutted out against the fabric. He silently sighed while he involuntarily touched his tongue to his lower lip until he caught himself. He very intentionally averted his gaze, scratched the back of his neck and then crossed his arms as he managed, "I should—I should try to—uhh—I'm going to see if I can clean up my clothes, too."

"Yea, okay," she answered, sitting down next to him. There was little available space, so nearly every spot was right next to him. He grabbed the spare garments he had pilfered from the garage and quickly left the tent.

He wasn't out there very long. When he returned, Jane started to smirk, just a little, and he said, "What?" as he climbed back inside.

"Your clothes…that's…quite a look on you," she said, pointing at him. He wore a flannel shirt that was so small that there were gaps in the fabric between the buttons and a pair of jeans that were too large.

"I make anything look good," he actually joked back, with complete cockiness. "Even this twenty-year old secondhand crap that no one else would wear looks amazing on me. And you're one to talk. Are those swimming trunks? When I told my team I was going to Miami, that wasn't true. You _do_ get that, right?"

She actually giggled a little until she saw Weller grow serious again, remembering exactly how screwed up their situation was.

Sitting side by side, they ate some of their rations, and Jane commented that they'd need to find a way to replenish their food since their supplies were shrinking. They'd passed a few homes during their travels, but all of them appeared to be occupied, and they didn't know who to trust. Besides that, they mostly sat in silence. They each had a bedroll that they'd taken and set them as far apart as they could in the tiny tent. Stretching out to sleep, even in such rudimentary accommodations, felt really relaxing after all of their travels.

They each lay flat on their backs, staring up at the top of the tent and hoping it wouldn't begin to leak. As tired as they were, neither fell asleep quickly. Jane rolled carefully onto her side, facing Weller and trying to squint through the darkness to see if his eyes were still open. "Kurt?" she whispered.

He turned quickly to her, initially staring without answering. It was the first time she'd used his given name since he pulled her out of the black site. He cleared his throat and after the pause whispered back, "Using my first name again. Must be serious."

"Sorry… _Weller_ ," she deflatedly corrected.

"You can use my first name, Jane," he said, facing the top of the tent as he sighed, "it just sounded weird to hear you say it again."

"I wish we could go back to being 'Kurt and Taylor.' Things were so much better then. You and I—we were—"

"But it was a lie. We were _never_ Kurt and Taylor," he said, her name burning at the back of his throat as he remembered.

They returned to silence for so long that Jane thought he'd fallen asleep, and then he said, "I miss it too. I miss…the way things used to be with us. I just don't know if we can ever be that again."

"We can't be that, exactly," she answered quickly, "but we can be this. Maybe even a better version of this."

"You know, it was like losing her twice," he confessed, showing more vulnerable honesty than he had since he'd arrested her. "First when she was a girl. Then…I wanted so much to believe you were her. When I found out you weren't, it felt like she disappeared again. All of that hope and possibility. Gone."

"I really hoped I could be her. Not just for you. For me. I liked the way you protected her. The way you looked at her."

He almost laughed, "But I wasn't looking at _her_. I was looking at _you_."

"You thought I was her."

"The last time I saw her she was a child. Sure, that girl…she meant _so_ much to me. I truly cared about her and losing her changed my whole life. But the _woman_ I protected, the woman I got to know, the woman I looked at…that was you."

"Does that mean-" Jane began, a hint of optimism in her voice.

"I don't know. I—I'm tired," he replied, rolling away.

She listened to the rain, allowing the steadiness of it to distract her from the past and everything she was trying to figure out.

"You know the worst part?" he asked, still facing away.

"What's that?"

"I lost Taylor because I wasn't able to protect her. Then I thought I found her when you showed up only to lose her again when I found out that was all a lie. Then…I lost you when the CIA took you away. I couldn't even protect you in custody. Is it just me, or am I prone to losing the women I'm supposed to be looking out for?"

"Is that why you came to rescue me?"

"I just…had to find you."

* * *

Her clothes were soaked against her skin when she woke. She was sweating and trembling from whatever nightmare had haunted her sleep, but she felt cold at the same time. It was too bad that she and Weller weren't on friendly enough terms to climb under the same blanket. He certainly didn't suggest keeping each other warm before he passed out.

He was much closer to her when she woke, still not touching, but close enough that she could feel a little of his warmth. Every piece of her longed for him to reach out, take her hand and put it to his chest over his heart and reassure her that he still was _there_. She remembered the gesture like it was yesterday, even if it felt like it had happened lifetimes ago. It was amazing how much comfort that action had given her at the time. He had given her something to cling to in the midst of a freefall, and she desperately needed that again. She had no one else…she didn't even _want_ to have anyone else.

She reached out to touch him, her hand trembling just a bit as it neared his heart, but it felt like too intimate a touch to impose on him while he slept. They'd helped soothe each other's physical wounds, but asking for emotional healing was entirely different. His arm was on the ground between them, bent at the elbow with his open palm facing up near her face. She inched just a little closer, resting her cheek in his hand and she felt the way his palm and fingers conformed to the curve of her face. She draped her fingers over his wrist in the hopes that he wouldn't pull his hand away. That gentle contact was the most pleasant feeling she'd had in such a long time. It felt like they were only bound together by the most tenuous thread, but she was going to hang on to that thread with everything she had. A tear slid down her face when she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.


	3. Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Thanks again to everyone who has read my story and all of those who have reviewed, favorited and followed. Thanks so much!
> 
> I don't own the characters of Blindspot

 

 

* * *

 

Weller felt Jane rest her face in his hand while she thought he was sleeping. He didn't open his eyes. He wasn't even sure what he thought about it, but he knew it felt more _right_ than it should. When her breath evened, and he thought she was asleep, he opened his eyes just a slit to confirm that she wasn't watching him.

He didn't move his hand away, he just watched her sleep. He noticed that she began to shiver and the urge to pull her body against his nearly won out. This instinct to protect and care for her had become so ingrained that it felt innate and unavoidable, as if she'd been written into his very DNA, and he couldn't control it any more than his height or the color of his eyes.

She was so beautiful when she slept. Hell, he knew she was beautiful no matter what she did, even when she cried. As his eyes adjusted, he saw thin wet streaks left behind by her tears. He resisted the desire to hold her close, but he couldn't fight the need to reach out and brush a strand of hair away from her face. Her black hair had gotten so long while she was in captivity. Thoughts were flying through his head faster than he could really consider them, and he mumbled to himself, "What in the hell am I supposed to do with you?"

A gentle, sad smile curled the edges of her lips and she said, "I wish I knew." Her eyes fluttered open and he could see how broken she was. She asked, "Is it ever going to get better?"

He thought she was asking if things between them would get better, but he wasn't prepared to answer that. Instead he replied, "You're strong, Jane. You're a survivor. You will make it through this. I know you think you'll never get over this, but you'll heal. It will get better."

Her eyes begged him to be there, to stay by her side while her world collapsed. God, her silent pleas still had such a powerful effect on him. A look flashed across her face, something between guilt and sadness, and she said, "Sorry. We better go."

She got up as quickly as she could and went outside to get the clothes that she'd "washed" the night before. Weller wasn't even sitting up yet when she tossed his clothes into the tent for him, too, and he took the hint, shedding the tight flannel and ill-fitting jeans for the same clothes he'd rescued her in. When she returned, she was in her borrowed fatigues and army jacket, and she was quickly packing up her bed. Her face was perfectly stoic, strong, and she looked completely unemotional.

"Jane," he said softly, "just stop for a minute."

She kept going, shaking her head, and he knew that look. She didn't want to stop because she didn't want her walls to crumble and the dam to break. He'd been there. He knew that feeling. He was a master of dam construction.

"Jane," he said a bit louder and with more authority, "stop."

He got in her way, unable to stand up in the short tent, but he knelt in the middle, able to position himself so that she couldn't get around him. He put his hands out in a sign of surrender to make sure she knew he intended her no harm, and then he gently took her forearms and tried to focus her attention. She didn't meet his gaze, looking everywhere but at him. "We need to go," she asserted.

"Jane, please," he insisted. "Stop for a second, and look at me."

She did, her eyes darting up to his and then quickly away several times. His hands tightened around her arms just a little at a time and he carefully brought her closer. She was simultaneously indestructible and fragile. That had always been part of why he was so interested in her. Her body grew rigid when she started to get too close to him, and he asked, carefully, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she answered swiftly. "I think you're the one who doesn't trust me."

"We're working on that. We've made some progress, right?"

"Yea," she answered, still tense.

"During our hike, you were… _very_ honest with me about the past year. It wasn't all easy to hear but—I do believe you. So please. Relax. You can trust me," he said, pulling her toward him a little more assertively, all the while fully prepared for her to punch his throat or knee his groin since she seemed so hyper-stressed.

She didn't lash out at him, though, leaning carefully toward him until he finally wrapped his long arms around her. The icy stiffness in her posture slowly melted as he patiently remained, trying to be the presence she needed, his hand resting on the back of her head as he just tried to make her feel safe for a moment. "You're the toughest woman I've ever known," he confessed. "But you don't have to be tough right now. Just for a minute. You're safe here with me."

Then the dam broke. She started to sob, her whole body shaking as she slumped into him, the tension all flowing out through tears and cries of utter sorrow. He felt his eyes burning with tears, too, feeling the depths and fullness of her pain.

He held her for a while, stroking her hair or her back, surrounding her with as much of his presence as he could. He knew how it felt to hurt straight down to the core.

She finally pulled back just far enough to wipe her tears with the heel of her palm, but he kept an arm around her. "Who knows," she chuckled bitterly, "maybe one of Oscar's cohorts will find us, wipe my memory again, and I won't remember any of this anyway."

Weller shook his head immediately, "I won't let that happen."

"Maybe you should. You could move on without having to keep an eye on me all of the time. You wouldn't have to be stuck with someone you barely trust. Maybe you and Allie could—"

"Would you stop?" he asked, more angry than concerned. "You want to just forget all of this? You want to forget me and all we've been through? All we've done? The last year doesn't mean anything to you?"

"I don't _want_ to forget you but…god, Kurt, I…you know what you mean to me."

"Actually, I don't," he challenged.

"If we go back to work, I don't know if I can be so close to you every day but still feel you keeping me at a distance, or looking at me like I'm your enemy. You could have the things you really want. Professionally and personally—"

"Don't tell me what I want," he retorted.

"Fine," she argued back, her voice getting louder, "then you tell me what you want."

He shook his head, "I don't want us to go our separate ways. I don't want you to forget me—this, and all we've been through. We're more effective _together_. We could save hundreds more lives. We just need to find a way to get back. Make everyone trust you again. And then we can get back to work."

"Or we could cut our losses and move on."

"Move on? My name is tattooed on your back. Even if you forgot who I was, someone would bring you back to me."

"No, it might work," she whispered. "I could have the tattoos removed—"

"Is this some fucked up attempt to be funny?"

"No. I'm serious. Face it, you feel obligated to look out for me. I know you knew your job was dangerous when you signed on, but this…me…you didn't know what you were getting into with this."

"Well, I know what I'm getting into now. I know what I want. I don't want to lose you for any reason. Not to make me safer. Not to make life less complicated. And I sure as hell don't want you to ever look at me like you don't know me again. We've been through too much to act like it didn't happen. And I will NEVER let them take you or your memories again," he vowed, as much for himself as for her.

The electricity that crackled between them had nothing to do with the lightening that seemed omnipresent in the skies. He couldn't stop himself from leaning forward. He couldn't avoid determinedly capturing her lower lip between his. And there was simply no way to stop his hands from splaying across her back and pulling her against him. God, he was grateful that she didn't seem to be able to stop it either.

Their very first kiss nearly a year earlier had been timid, sweet, and too abruptly interrupted. The second had been playful, happy and full of the promises of things they thought were to come. But this kiss was nothing like those previous encounters. It was passionate, necessary, deep and almost desperate. Any hesitation, at least physically, was buried out of sight. They held onto each other as urgently as she'd held his hands to prevent him from falling to his death. As soon as it was clear that neither was about to back away, he parted her lips with his tongue, and she welcomed him, kissing him with the same fervent need. They wanted to be a part of one another. They wanted the pain and distrust and separation to end.

They were still kneeling since they were in the damn tent. He wanted to stand up and lift her up, too, to pull her legs around his hips and cradle the entirety of her weight in his arms. He willingly fell backwards, landing awkwardly on some of their supplies, but that fact didn't slow him. Even in the heat of a moment as passionate as this, he was careful not to hurt her.

His fingers slipping up through her hair to the back of her head as they kissed, his other hand pressed firmly down over the small of her back to her ass. She moved up, sitting astride him as she followed him toward the ground.

It felt like they were made to fit together. The pressure of her weight on him, the feeling of her body beneath his roaming hands, and the subtle moans and heavy breaths that emanated from her were driving him wild. He was a man of restraint, control, and carefully calculated plans. This wasn't controlled or planned, they were totally off the rails. Their bodies were simply reacting to each other. They'd been restrained in their shows of affection since the feelings had started to build when they first met, so the release of that restraint was all the more powerful.

She had to realize how aroused he was becoming. Her knees planted on the ground on either side of him, she rocked down in his lap just as he lifted his hips to meet her. They were so in tune with each other, it felt like they'd been lovers for years, practicing carefully practiced foreplay to perfection. She gasped something that sounded like his name and he groaned back, "God, Jane," with the type vulnerable reverence usually reserved for the seconds before orgasm and not for a hot and heavy makeout session.

He reached his hand to her cheek, tilting her head so he could kiss her neck, and then he felt the dampness of fresh tears on his palm and it caught his attention. He sat up, shifting her down so she was positioned a little lower on his thighs so he could think. "What's wrong?" he asked breathlessly. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head quickly, whispering raspily, "No. Not at all."

His face grew serious again, a look she was so used to, and he said, "What aren't you telling me? No more lies. I think you and me…I think we can figure this out. But if we're going to…we need to be honest with each other, or I won't be able to trust you." He didn't break contact, his hand taking hers and holding it to his chest, reassuring her.

She sighed, her hand swooping through her hair to pull it back. "I don't want to mess this up. I feel like we're getting closer again, and I don't want to be this close now and later on, when we leave here…if things go back to the way they were yesterday, I don't know if I could handle it right now. I think you're doing this because you don't want to lose me, but that's not the same as trusting me."

"He roughly rubbed his hand over his beard and admitted, "I lied to you. I'm asking you to be truthful, but I haven't been totally honest with you either."

"What is it?" she asked, worriedly.

"My team doesn't think I'm on vacation."

"Where are you supposed to be? Was finding me some kind of FBI mission?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. After you were taken, they didn't reopen the tattoo cases. In fact, they took all of the scans and related files and buried them. We were following orders, taking assignments and…well, certain people felt I wasn't prepared to be in the field or in any condition to be leading the NYO. I was sent to Borden. He said he thought I was distracted after they took you again. That I was taking unnecessary risks. That I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Did you? Did you think that you weren't thinking clearly?"

"At the time, no. But looking back…they were probably right. Since I refused to open up and get help, Borden recommended a temporary leave for me. I could have fought it. But I didn't."

"How long until you can go back?"

"I need to return to him for evaluation before I can be reinstated. I haven't been back. I'm sorry I lied to you. I can't ask you to be honest if I'm not. I meant what I said. I don't want to lose you. If they find you and try to take your memory, you fight them with everything you've got. And I know what you're made of, so I know you can do it. We'll figure this out. Together. Without your memory getting erased."

"Okay," she responded with a reassuring nod.

Then they both looked around somewhat awkwardly, trying to figure out where to go from there. He thought, momentarily, about what they'd be doing at that moment had he not noticed her tears. The break gave them time to be more rational.

"As much as I'd like to stay here with you," he said with a suggestive and confident little smile, I think maybe we should get going. We need to find some supplies or we're going to get pretty hungry. Besides, when I was out there last night, I thought I heard a few semi-trucks. Sounded like they were moving pretty fast, so maybe there's a highway nearby. If there's a highway we can figure out where we are and plan where we're going."

"Sure," she said, bobbing her head and nervously biting her lower lip.

"Hey," he said, waiting for her to look at him. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers gently and offering a tender kiss, trying to wordlessly reassure her. "It's going to be okay."

* * *

They packed up their camp and prepared to leave. She powered through the discomfort of her body, unwilling to show physical weakness, but her pain must have been obvious, because he cleared his throat and said, patting a boulder, "Here. Before we leave, sit down."

She sat and he got out the ill-fitting flannel shirt that he'd worn the night before. He reached around her body, tying a makeshift sling for her left arm because that was the one that seemed to be causing her the most annoyance. Having him so close was reassuring. "It's not ideal," he said, taking a step back to look at his handiwork, "but it'll help." He offered a hand to pull her up and said, "Let's get going. I think the traffic was coming from over that ridge."

He grinned widely when they peered over the highest point and saw a road below. It was a far cry from the bustling streets of New York, but they saw several cars pass and a few green road signs listing the distance to various locations.

Weller seemed to be carefully stewing over something as they came close enough to read the sign. He laughed, pointing at the sign, and said, "We were a lot further east than I'd anticipated. I thought we were closer to the ocean. This is perfect."

"What's perfect?"

"I have a friend…just a few hours hike from here. He'll be able to help us out."

"Do you trust him?" Jane questioned.

"I've known him a long time. And he used to work in our office. He had Borden's job. He's a good man. He had some…disagreements with the way things were handled with soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. He volunteered with a wounded veteran's group outside of work and…it changed him."

"Changed him enough that you can trust him not to turn me in?" she questioned.

"He's a really good man. He just saw some things that he couldn't handle any more. He'd never turn you in. He knows what the CIA is capable of doing. That's why he left our office and moved out here. He's a good friend. Loyal."

"And then? What about after we get there? What's our next move?"

Weller grabbed some water and sat down as they took a break. "I've been thinking a lot about that. We get some sleep, some really good scotch, and a decent meal. My buddy has some contacts that I don't have. Right now, I don't have access to the team or any FBI resources. If we could figure out more about your background, we might be able to connect the dots. Show proof of the people who were using you and even the reason why you felt the need to expose corruption. People don't get involved in things like that unless there's a reason…a trigger. We might be able to clear your name and get you reinstated, maybe get you an official position with the Bureau. You're an incredible asset, well trained, great instincts. It might take some time and I'm sure there'll be hurdles, but I think it's our best course of action."

"Ever consider that maybe you'll figure out who I really am and you'll find out some stuff that you don't want to know."

"I don't need to figure out who you are. I _know_ who you _are_. What we need to figure out is who you _were_. Your background."

"I don't have all of the answers from my past, but I'm sure you're not going to like all of it," she admitted.

"There are things about me you probably wouldn't like either. My mother looked at me and decided that I was going to be just like my father. She never gave me a chance to show her who I was going to become. She judged me based solely on who I was when I was young and who my father was. I'm not going to judge you based on who you were and the people you associated with. I want to judge you based on who you are right now and who you want to become."

"Are you sure you want to know that much?" she asked, her voice wavering.

"I want to know everything," he replied humorlessly. "That's where my friend comes in. He has good connections and right now, he's our best shot at sorting this whole thing out. Maybe he can help point us in the right direction."

"And if he can't?"

"Then we keep going until we find another option."

"You know…" she said, pausing to carefully consider her words and the ramifications they might have. Weller sometimes pulled far back when she asked questions that were too personal or sensitive, and she needed to be cautious. "I want to know you, too. I'm willing to figure this out, to let you see it all. But it has to go both ways. I want to know everything."

"My past isn't a mystery."

"A lot of it is to me. You're not on duty and this isn't just work anymore."

He equivocated for a moment, looking away and probably hoping for an emergency that would distract her from the question. He had been more open with her than anyone else he'd ever known, but showing his entire hand was completely different than asking for her to show hers. "I'll work on it," he offered. "I will try. It may take some time."

He was surprised when she smiled and nodded, seemingly satisfied with the offer.

* * *

It felt like they'd been hiking forever, paralleling the highway but remaining out of sight. At least they had a specific destination. Weller started to chuckle with satisfaction when they turned down a stone road off of the highway. They followed it back nearly two miles when he put his hand on her shoulder and said, "We made it."

She held back for a second, "Are you sure you can trust this guy?"

"Absolutely. I wouldn't do anything to put you in danger. Believe me. This guy's a separatist. He's definitely not a Fed."

"If he's anti-government, what if he tips off someone else…terrorists or someone who might want access to my tattoos."

"He's no friend to terrorists either. He just couldn't stand seeing those soldiers with their limbs torn off day after day or people who'd been tortured and abused. It finally got to him. He might not be Uncle Sam, but he'd never intentionally put someone in harm's way. There's a difference."

"Alright," she answered, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

They approached the compound. It definitely looked secure with thick grey brick walls surrounding it and surveillance cameras positioned in several locations.

Before they got to the gate, Weller turned Jane toward him and he said, "Before we go in, I need to apologize. I'm sorry things got so out of hand—this morning back in the tent. I don't want you to feel like I was taking advantage of you."

"I'm sorry, too," she said. He tilted his head, wordlessly asking her to elaborate. "I'm sorry that—things didn't get more out of hand," she said, teasing with a playful smirk. More seriously, she added, "I know you. You're a good man. You wouldn't take advantage of me. And you didn't act alone. We were both…involved."

Weller's ears grew red with a slight blush, but he made every attempt to look calm and collected, "We better get going."

She bobbed her head, but her apprehension as they got closer did not go unnoticed.

They approached the gate, and Weller glanced up at the cameras. Motion lights turned on, so he faced the closest camera and said, "Hark. It's Weller. You there?"

"Holy shit," a computerized voice responded through a speaker before they were buzzed in.

The gate clicked open. Weller put his hand on Jane's back, guiding her through the gate to the main door. "I hope this isn't a mistake," she said glancing up at him while he smiled reassuringly. Walking through the gates gave her some reassurance. The outside looked like a cold, austere complex, but inside, it was more welcoming. There was a small, modern home that looked like it belonged on an ordinary street in almost any small town. There was a pond and walking paths. It was oddly idyllic and serene, given the protection that surrounded it. It didn't look anything like the myriads of military institutions she had pictured in her flashing memories.

The moment they walked inside, a man rushed to Weller and roughly hugged him, slapping him on the back. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Weller pulled away from the hug first and stood somewhat protectively by Jane's side. "This is Jane. Jane, this is Dr. Matt Harkin."

"Hark," the man said, offering his nickname for her to use.

Hark looked a bit like Weller, tall and sturdy, but a bit older, hair greying with weathered skin. Jane thought, for a moment, that this man actually looked more like Weller's father than his biological father had, and she wondered if he'd served as some sort of mentor.

"Nice to meet you, Hark," Jane said, shaking his hand.

"First off, our visit here today never happened," Weller said with the same authority he spoke with on official business.

"Obviously," Hark answered, walking over to a bar, pouring each of them a scotch and handing each of his guests a glass.

"This isn't just a friendly visit. We need some help doing a little legwork and I don't have access to my usual resources."

Hark swirled his drink in his glass. "You show up here with someone who is supposed to be so well hidden in a CIA black site that she won't even be able to remember what the light of day looks like. I already assumed this was pretty serious."

Jane tensed, still prepared to flee. Weller still stood guard by her, trying to assure her that he was going to protect her no matter what. "You know who I am?" she questioned, her voice hoarse.

"I have friends with ears in the Bureau and contacts who listen for chatter and monitor the dark web." Hark said, smiling knowingly. "And I am really excited to finally meet the woman that Kurt Weller would be willing to accept a leave of absence for. Lord knows I could never get him to take a day off."


	4. Angry Munchkin and the Pinup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-This chapter has a mature content warning. If you don't like that kind of thing, skip the last section of the chapter.
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for reading. I get so nervous every time I put up a new chapter, but you're all so kind.
> 
> I don't own the characters of Blindspot.

Jane closed her eyes and sunk down into the deep bath. The water was so hot that she could see steam rising from her skin when she reached for the shampoo that was perched on the edge. The heat permeated her aching body, but the best part was the ability to finally, thoroughly, cleanse herself from her stay in the CIA black site. She washed her hair, now just a bit shorter because she'd quickly hacked it off with an ordinary pair of scissors. She wanted to get as far from those days of captivity as possible.

She was eager to find answers, but Hark didn't seem to be in much of a rush. When he offered his guests fresh clothes and a chance to clean up, Jane tried to push for intel. Hark asked them to wait so he could make them a decent meal, promising to answer as many questions as he could over dinner. Weller convinced her to take the opportunity to relax, but she would have preferred answers over comfort.

Still, as she dried off with the soft, fluffy towels she'd been given and put on a pair of knit yoga pants and a fresh tee shirt, she had to admit that she felt almost human again. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Weller was waiting in the attached guest room, setting up a cot across from the bed. "That smells really good," she commented. "What is he cooking?"

"I don't know but-," he stalled when he looked at her, his eyes skating over her form. "You cut your hair."

She ran her fingers through the wet locks self-consciously, "Does it look bad?"

"I like it. Looks more like you."

They heard the front door open and close, and then a small commotion followed. Weller grabbed his sidearm, checking to make sure it was loaded and ready, took Jane's hand and rushed out into the hall. "Hand on my back," he ordered. He kept her close, but always behind him as he followed textbook procedures, clearing each room of threats before going to the next one. When they reached the main living room, Weller looked around the corner, and his posture froze. "Sadira?" he asked, tucking his sidearm away.

"Kurt!" the woman exclaimed with a joy that was obvious, "I'm so pleased that you're here."

Sadira had beautiful olive skin, sparkling greenish-blue eyes and silky black hair neatly tied up on her head. Jane noticed that Sadira walked on a prosthetic leg, and had some scarring on her arms and neck that looked almost like healed burns. She also appeared to be several months pregnant, as her belly protruded from her otherwise tiny figure. She couldn't help but feel a bit concerned over the nature of Weller's relationship with the unknown woman.

Jane watched as Kurt and the woman hugged warmly. "It is so good to see you," he said, looking down at the toddler who had been running around and creating the commotion that had first alarmed them. "Who is this?" he asked turning to the child.

"This is Lily," Sadira introduced.

Weller offered his hand and the toddler, after much hesitation, extended hers as well and shook. Jane felt herself smiling as she watched Weller with the little girl, and thought of the way he'd been with Sawyer. Jane remembered their conversation about how he would be a good father. He exuded a calm friendliness that seemed to put them at ease. For someone who wasn't often with children, he seemed very natural. Weller turned and addressed Sadira, "What are you doing here?"

Just then Hark returned to the room, and Sadira immediately smiled at him. Weller loudly said, "Wow? Are you serious? The two of you…After all of that denial…"

"Married nearly three years this November," Hark explained.

" _You_ …are a father?" Weller teased for a moment before offering his congratulations. "Sadira, this is Jane. Sadira was a consultant at the NYO for a while. She did some translation, and apparently was doing some side work for Hark as well." Turning his attention to his old friend, Weller said, "I can't believe you got married."

"Sometimes it still surprises me," Hark admitted.

Hark went back to preparing the meal. Weller hurried to the shower and Jane sat with Sadira and Lily. Jane tried to think of things to say, but her social skills felt particularly rusty. After some stunted conversation, Lily, somewhat presumptuously, climbed into Jane's lap and started to touch her neck tattoo. "I like birds," the child whispered, completely unaware that it was odd for her to be touching a stranger so personally.

Lily was hard to resist, both because she was sweet, covered by an aura of innocence and curiosity, and because she was rather insistent. Her mother gave her paper and crayons to color, but she stayed perched in Jane's lap. When the child was finally interested in coloring, Sadira asked, "So you and Kurt. You are close?"

Jane sort of shrugged and nodded. "We used to work together. After that, I guess it gets complicated."

"He's a wonderful man and a top notch agent," Sadira insisted. "Quite handsome…in that rugged, scruffy American sort of way."

Jane smiled, looking down at the child, who simply drew while the adults talked around her. This child was used to such domesticity, but Jane felt so out of place at an ordinary family dinner table. Normalcy, for Jane, was quite odd.

Weller finally emerged from the shower in new clothes, the thick beard that he'd been growing while they were hiking was trimmed back to his usual shadow. Jane felt horribly embarrassed, for some reason, when he saw her sitting with Lily in her lap.

Weller took the seat next to Jane's, pulling it a bit closer and casually hanging his wrist on the back of Jane's chair. Hark lifted the child from Jane's lap and moved her to a place with a booster seat. Lily was not at all pleased to be taken from the visitors as her father said, "Let's eat."

Jane tried not to shove food into her face as quickly as possible, but it was hard. The meal was delicious and it had been so long since she'd had a dinner like this.

Weller, Hark and Sadira shared stories, laughing as they reminisced. It was almost entertaining enough to ease the questions that burned in Jane's mind. She noticed how Weller seemed to continually inch closer. He kept his arm on her chair nearly all night, except at the beginning of dinner while he ate, and often tapped her shoulder to get her attention or emphasize a point in his story. By the time the meal was over and they were enjoying coffee and glasses of scotch, she realized that she was leaning toward him, too.

Sadira, subtly, asked about the nature of their relationship, and Weller confidently answered, "You know how it is…I'm really hard to resist."

Jane turned, smiling at him as she shook her head at his cockiness. Neither seemed to realize how long they'd been staring at each other until Sadira said she had to take little Lily to bed.

As mother and child left the room, the remaining three got back to business. "So you've heard of Jane?" Weller asked.

"A bit. There's a lot of speculation about who she is and some info flying around the dark web. Apparently there is a lot of information in the tattoos?" Hark asked. "Several groups are offering a significant amount just for photos. A few sources out there have claimed to have some information on them, but I don't know how reliable they are."

"Yea," Weller answered regretfully. "Before things went south we were making some serious progress. Saving lots of lives."

"I heard you arrested her, too," Hark said. "That piece of intel came straight from my friends at the Bureau."

"Yea, well," Weller replied, "we had some misunderstandings, but we've cleared them up."

"But the CIA got a hold you," Hark directed at Jane.

She nodded, clearly remembering. "Until Kurt found me again."

"How in the hell did you find her?" Hark asked. "CIA black sites, especially domestically, are virtually impossible to find."

"It wasn't easy," Weller answered. "I put out some feelers. I spent almost two months following every lead. Then one night on my way home, I was jumped. There were two, maybe three of them. I was drugged. I woke up the next morning in my apartment. And I had this…" Weller took off a wide banded sports watch, and flipped over his wrist.

Jane grabbed his hand, her thumb rubbing over a bar code tattoo. She looked thoroughly stunned. "What did it mean?"

"It wasn't difficult to crack. It was coordinates."

"But why a tattoo?" Hark asked.

"I figured it was their way of telling me it was information about Jane," Weller responded. "I went there that same day and waited for them. They threw me on a private plane. We landed at a small airport. I was blindfolded and they put some kind of noise cancelling headphones on me, so I couldn't hear much. They drove me in a van to the right spot, gave me my weapon, dropped me off and told me where to go. I found her right where they said she would be."

"No idea who they were?"

"None," Weller admitted. "At first I thought it might have been the people who wanted Jane to work for them. But I figured they'd rescue her themselves…so why contact me?"

"Maybe they thought you were best equipped to get her out of there?" Hark asked.

"I don't know. I just know that it worked. Since they blew up the van I was brought in, Jane and I have been going on foot ever since."

"I received some information a few days ago from one of my contacts, but I didn't think much of it until now. There's a message board for bands who are looking for musicians, mostly really loud screaming stuff," he mentioned as he went to get a tablet. He looked at the screen as he added, "Anyway, we noticed that sometimes there were some more cryptic messages that were quickly deleted by a user who has posted some curious things before. A few of the messages seemed promising, but we haven't had much to go on. Here, you might know something about these."

He handed the tablet to Jane. She looked over it and said, "Who's Mike Oxbig?"

Weller started to chuckle as he looked over her shoulder. "Say it again…the name. Out loud."

"Mike Oxbig," she repeated, and then she realized what the name sounded like. "Gotcha."

Weller read over Jane's shoulder, his chin almost touching her:

_**Mike Oxbig** : Anyone know if 'Angry Munchkin and the Pinup' have plans to release a new album any time soon?_

_**Jed High** : I heard a new band snatched the Pinup. She's been stuck in the studio recording. _

_**Mike Oxbig** : I might need her killa beats for my new song. Any thoughts on how to reach her to see if she's interested?_

_**Jed High** : You aren't the only interested party. Lots of bands want killa beats._

_**Mike Oxbig** : Yea, but we've jammed together before. She probably wants to hear my offer._

A second conversation that was time stamped a day later said:

_**Jed High** : You're going to need new talent. The Pinup quit making music._

_**Mike Oxbig** : Maybe I'll talk to the Angry Munchkin and see if he wants to play._

_**Jed High** : I've heard he's taking a break from recording. _

_**Mike Oxbig** : I'll check with a talent agency._

"That's all we have," Hark told them.

"Rich," Jane and Weller said at the same time.

"Where do you think he is?" Jane asked.

"I have no idea," Weller admitted.

"Hark, can you reach out to your sources, see if anyone knows Rich Dotcom or anything else about whoever posted these messages?"

"Sure," Hark answered. "Now, while you were getting cleaned up earlier, Kurt mentioned that he wants to try to figure out where you were born and raised?"

Weller said, "Well, to figure out who she is, we've been tracking back from the present, but I thought it might help to try to figure out where she started, and we can work forward from there. Then we can try to fill in the blanks in between."

"How much to do you know?"

"Isotopes in her teeth point to sub-Saharan Africa," Weller mentioned.

"I have memories sometimes…of an orphanage in a basement…the children were very sad, sickly or injured, crying, hungry. It was filthy. But I don't remember much more," Jane added.

With a concerned look on his face Hark said, "Kurt also mentioned that you speak many languages and are well trained in many types of combat and weaponry."

"Yea," she answered. "I don't always know I speak a language until I hear it…it's strange." Hark looked concerned so she asked, "Do you know something about my childhood?"

"There are a few possibilities, but nothing for certain," Hark answered. "I'll look into it tonight and try to find some answers for you."

Jane's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Something doesn't seem right here. Why do you have all of these connections and such heavy security?"

She expected Weller to disapprove of the question, but he looked at Hark and waited. "I've been involved in helping people get certain items out of warzones and back to the states," Hark answered.

"Like what? Intel? Weapons?" she asked worriedly.

Hark smiled, "People. Sometimes animals. I started counseling war vets, most of them injured. Including Sadira. She was there as a doctor. They were on a run, picking up what was left of soldiers who'd been wounded or killed by a roadside bomb, and her vehicle was also attacked. We have invited wounded soldiers to visit here, to stay with us while they recover. I help with psychological issues and she uses her medical background to assist with therapy. One of the common things we found was that many wounded vets got close with locals…some fell in love. Some bonded with orphans that local law wouldn't allow them to adopt. Some grew really attached to dogs or other animals who were with them while they recovered. Once they were back, they had a hard time adjusting to life without their companion. Sadira and I decided to find a way to smuggle these things or people back, provided, of course, that they weren't leaving anyone behind who really cared about them. We want to try to improve the lives of all those involved."

Jane's head tilted with empathy, her built-in desire for justice kicking in. "You know that's _highly_ illegal," Weller said, although without too much disapproval.

"Of course it is. But it's the right thing to do. Do you have any idea what happens to those orphans on the street?" Hark asked. "We can give an orphan a home and help a vet at the same time."

Jane nodded, "The streets are no place for a child. Especially in a warzone."

"We have a number of very well connected supporters who help fund our operation. The security is necessary because we don't want anyone to know what we do. It also often helps some of our vets to feel a bit safer when they first return and it helps me sleep at night because it's safer for my family. "

"You help people," Jane said.

"We try," he emphasized.

"That's really amazing. The—some—,"Jane stuttered as she finally decided to say, "Some people I used to work with…they had some noble goals that I really wanted to support…but their methods…too often good people got hurt."

Hark seemed to understand, "The problem is, we have people who see war and pain and death and injustice every day. People who feel they have someone to blame can easily go on a crusade, feeling justified in their actions, no matter what or who the casualties may be. The people who hurt my beautiful wife…in their hearts, they felt their actions were righteous. If I resort to the same methods, I'm no better."

"You really have changed," Weller declared with certainty.

Hark smiled and said to Jane, "Did he tell you where we met?"

"You worked at the NYO, right?" she replied.

"I did, but I've known Kurt since he was what…16 or 17? Isn't that right?"

Weller answered quietly as he looked into his glass, "Sounds about right."

"Tell me," Jane said, propping her elbow on the table and resting her head on her hand and she gazed at Weller.

Weller took another drink and answered, "Military school. For some odd reason, people thought I was a little angry. I don't remember why."

"It might have been the constant fighting," Hark interjected.

"Nah," Weller joked, "That couldn't have been the reason. Anyway, he took me under his wing. Even suggested the FBI at one point."

"I wish I could have seen you then," she said, fondly.

"I'm sure I have a yearbook somewhere," Hark said, turning toward some shelves.

Lily ran into the room and said to Jane, "Please, please. Come read me a story."

Jane looked at Weller, who waited for her to answer. Hark said, "Lily, I think our guest is tired—"

"No, it's fine," Jane said, standing and telling Weller, "I'll be back."

As Jane walked out of the room, little Lily reached up and took her hand. Looking at her tattoos, the girl said, "I like your decorations," as they disappeared down the hall.

Weller chuckled and said, "Things are good for you?"

"Very good," Hark answered.

"How do you balance it? Work with wife and kids?"

"I changed the way I work. Now, why don't you cut to the chase…what exactly is going on here? Seems very intense."

"Pal, I told you, you and me getting hot and sweaty together…that was a one time thing," Weller teased.

"So you're going to resort to jokes? I know your tricks, Kurt. Must be really serious. Are you in love with her?"

Weller scoffed for a second, but shook his head, "I don't know. She's—I'm—we're…you know."

Hark chuckled, "That was very specific. You've been through a lot together. I see this all the time. People survive horrible circumstances and they form strong attachments…they bond with the people who help them get through it."

"So if I were her dog back in Iraq, you'd try to have me illegally shipped here?" Weller joked. Seeing Hark's annoyance, Weller conceded, "She has been through a lot."

"I'm sure she has, but I wasn't referring to her."

"What?" Weller laughed.

"You've been through hell recently. You're on leave from the job you cling to. You've spent weeks wandering through the forest in the rain. Circumstances in your life reopened wounds from when you were a boy. You've been shot—"

"Just a graze," Weller interrupted.

"Nonetheless…the last year has been a tough one for you."

"I feel fine."

"Exactly," Hark responded. "You've been through all that but you look happier than I've ever seen you. This woman…she's good for you."

"It's really complicated."

"If it's complicated and it still makes you this happy, then that's even more telling. You were willing to risk everything to find her. I see the way you two look at each other. The whole way through dinner…little smirks, casual touching, watching each other secretly. A blind man could catch on to the body language."

"You're reading in to it."

"Come here," Hark said, offering his friend a refill.

Weller somewhat grudgingly walked over to his friend's side of the table. "What?"

"Look at your chairs."

"What about the…" Weller trailed off as he looked at them. The table was of ample size, but his and Jane's chairs had somehow migrated right next to each other until the wood of their seats was touching.

"You two are drawn to each other…even if you don't want to be. But you both have piles of baggage that you guard very carefully."

"So you're telling me I look happy but I should back off?" Weller returned a bit defensively, "cuz this is getting really confusing."

"Not at all. You'll have to be patient, build trust. If her past is anything like I suspect, she's probably not quick to trust anyone. Don't expect complete openness to happen overnight, but if you are open, it will help her to open up at the same time. It's a two-way street."

"Oh, god, are you shrinking me? You know how well that goes, right?"

"You've had plenty of opportunities with beautiful, intelligent, interesting women over the years. And I've never seen you like this. Your feelings for her are not insignificant. What you choose to do about that is entirely up to you."

"I'm—," Weller started to argue but was interrupted.

"Hey, guys," Jane said from the door, "I think I'm going to try to get some sleep. Can we pick this up in the morning?"

"Absolutely," Hark said, "I'll ask around, see if anyone has any information about that Dotcom guy. Good night."

"Night," Jane answered, heading down the hall to the guest room.

Weller hurried after Jane, trying desperately to make it look like he wasn't hurrying. Just as she walked into the guest room, he asked, "Is it okay with you if I'm sleeping in the same room? I was going to stay on the cot, but I could crash out on the sofa if –"

"I'd prefer it if you stayed nearby." She added, teasing, "I'm getting used to the sound of your snoring."

Weller smirked and started walking back to the dining room to wish Hark good night and said, "I'll be back shortly."

When he went to the dining room, his friends had all gone to bed. Weller chuckled, grabbing his half-filled glass of scotch and taking it back to the room.

* * *

The lights in their room were dim, only a lamp on a table by the bedside cast off any significant light. He closed the door to their room and smiled as he heard the sound of her brushing her teeth while he placed his glass on the table. He had to admit, he liked having her around.

He sat on the edge of the cot, and took off his boots, setting them carefully next to the cot in case he needed them in the night. He stripped down to a pair of boxers and the white tee shirt that his host had given him. Jane opened the door from the bathroom and entered their shared room. He approvingly breathed out slowly, admiring her without going so far as to whistle, but with similar meaning. She was wearing a silky white nightgown. Although it was low cut, it covered her well, and certainly wasn't meant to be a seductive garment, but she looked amazing in it.

"I hate this, but I didn't want to seem ungrateful when Sadira gave it to me," Jane spoke quietly so as to not bother their hosts. "I feel so stupid."

"Why do you always do that?" Weller asked, standing in front of his cot and continuing to allow his eyes to move over her.

"Do what?"

"Act like you don't deserve to wear clothes that are as beautiful as you are."

"I don't think—I don't—this is—," she trailed off.

"You look great in anything you wear, but I have to admit, you look really amazing in that. Just like you did when we played assassins full of wedded bliss."

"I just don't belong in this world."

"What world do you belong in?"

"I dunno," she smiled, "Military barracks? Maybe a mental ward."

"You don't belong in either of those places."

"Then where do I belong?"

"Right here with me," he stated, almost too seriously.

She was too taken off guard by his words, so she redirected, "Well, maybe tomorrow we can get some things that I'd actually be comfortable in."

"Sounds good," he said, practically strutting into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He didn't close the door, just as he was rinsing his mouth, he said, "What do you think Rich wants?"

"Who knows with him," Jane replied, standing in front of a dresser mirror brushing her hair. "If it's even him."

"So either he wants to kill us or ask for our help," Weller suggested. "Pretty big difference between those two things."

"I don't think he wants to kill us. He actually likes us—"

"Likes you—"

"I think both of us. I wonder if he helped you find me?"

"I doubt it," Weller said, "but anything is possible with that guy."

He walked out toward his cot and Jane said, "You're bleeding again," pointing to a small spot of blood that was coming from his side.

"It's alright," he shrugged it off.

"Sit down," Jane ordered without a hint of willingness to negotiate. She patted her bed and disappeared down the hall. When she returned, she had a relatively well stocked medical kit. "Your friends certainly are prepared."

She helped remove his shirt. Angling the lamp's light toward him, she looked at the edge of the bullet wound. "I should have rebutterflied these after your shower," she commented.

"It's not too bad," he answered.

She sat next to him on the bed, her silky fabric-covered hip brushing against his leg as she leaned over his torso and tended to the wound. He stared at her unabashedly, watching the refined, complete patience she exercised. He'd seen looks like these up close before when she was trying to disarm bombs, hotwire something or decipher clues, but not like this. He could see every twitch in her eyebrows, every movement of her tightly closed lips. She helped him with such genuine care.

When the bullet graze on his side was repaired, she said, "I better check those cuts on your leg."

"I'm good," he immediately answered, taking her hands in his before she could check his other injuries. "What about you. Your shoulder? How's that doing?"

"It's okay," she answered, "Sadira said that as long as I can avoid ripping it out of place again, it will probably heal. I'll be careful for a few days. Try to avoid rock climbing or being interrogated."

"You need me wrap it or get you some ice or something?" he questioned sitting up next to her, "seems like the least I can do."

"Nope. Nothing. It just needs time to heal."

"Ibuprofen?"

She smiled, "It's fine. Really."

His eyes met hers mischievously, and he said, "You were so nice to take care of me…I feel like I should do something to make it feel better." He leaned closer, dragging his chin along the top of her shoulder as his whiskers pricked through the fabric and scratched her skin. "Is this where it hurts?" he asked, a look of innocence on his face that made him seem all the more wicked.

She nodded her head and he kissed the cap of her shoulder. "Looks sore here too," he added, brushing his lips over toward the back near her shoulder blade before moving forward again to her collarbone. He heard her breath quicken a little, becoming a bit staggered, and it made him wonder what in the hell he'd been thinking, fooling around like this. He was playing with fire, and they both knew that.

Sitting next to her on the bed, but facing her, he reached his arm over her legs so they were face to face. Against his better judgment, he wanted to kiss her again, but since he'd instigated the last kiss, he waited patiently to see what she'd do in this situation. He didn't want to misread her actions.

She didn't react at all, initially, and he decided to say what he'd been thinking because his head was hurting from trying to figure it out. "Am I crazy or is there something between us. Something more than colleagues. Something more than friends?"

She shook her head, smiling a bit shyly, "You are _not_ crazy."

"But I guess it would be for the best," he whispered, "if we took things between us kinda slow. What do you think?"

He didn't want her to feel pressured, so he backed away just a little more, but she took his scruffy face in her hands and replied, "I think slow is a really good idea."

He wanted her so badly. He wanted hold her, to know what it felt like to be inside her, to taste her, to hear the sound of her voice when pleasure forced her to cry out. But he didn't want to risk ruining this or destroying the progress they'd made. They were on careful terms, still tentative. "That's fine, Jane," he answered, with a sound of sympathetic understanding and agreement.

"Besides," she said, her raspy voice sending chills down his spine, "slow can be fun, too."

She closed the gap between them patiently, brushing her nose past his before she allowed their lips to touch. She didn't rush, kissing each of his lips softly before tilting her head and carefully deepening the kiss. Her tongue slipped over his upper lip, tickling enticingly before sliding into his mouth. She lifted onto his lap, sitting with her legs to one side of him. Reaching for his hand on the bed, she took it in hers and guided it to her hip.

Once she placed it there, he firmly took hold, feeling the jut of her hip where it met her smooth belly, all still draped in the silky gown she'd been wearing. As they continued this slowly burning kiss, tongues mingling, both of their hearts were pounding as their breath grew more ragged. They weren't hurried, but that didn't seem to dampen the obvious passion and desire. His hand ventured further, leaving her hip, his thumb pressing against her firm abdomen to her ribs. Continuing the ascent, his fingers curved to cup her breast, savoring the feel of her in his palm.

When his thumb brushed over her nipple, she moaned so desirously that he had to fight the urge to flip her under him. He wished he knew what she was thinking. She was taking him to the very edge of his control, and the pain of resistance was deliciously mind-blowing.

Her hands pressed his shoulders until he was lying on his back, and she slipped down his body to remove his boxers. Crawling back over him, sitting astride, he pushed her gown above her hips and saw that she was wearing nothing else. He could feel the heat of her core next to his erection and he groaned lowly. She covered his lips with her finger, reminding him to stay quiet, before she covered his mouth with another kiss. He sat up, propping himself on his elbows and whispering, "I'm not trying to be presumptuous here, but I don't have any protection with me."

"Me neither," she replied, smiling, "I guess we'll have to improvise. After all, we are taking it slow."

He grinned at her playfulness, until she leaned down, pressing her wet folds against his shaft and rocking their bodies against each other, letting him intimately feel her although he wasn't inside her. His hands found her hips, helping her move against him. He dropped his head back to the pillow, closing his eyes for a few seconds to distract a little from the pleasurable feeling that was threatening his control. Finally he sat up, unable to passively endure any more temptation. He wrapped one arm around her body, pulling her tightly against him as his other hand moved between them. He leaned back just a little so he could watch her expression as he parted her folds with his finger and slid lower until it was inside her. She gasped at the feeling, rocking her hips against him as he added another finger. "Slowly," he reminded her, noting that she was the one speeding things up now. He grinned as she gripped his shoulder with her hand and held on.

He turned his hand palm up, hitting just the right spot inside her as his thumb rolled her sensitive nub. Her mouth opened in pleasure, and he wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything as beautiful. Her eyes closed for a bit, as she moved her body in waves with his touch. When she finally looked at him, she seemed to shiver at his unwavering stare. She reached between them, grasping his erection in her hands, pumping in time with his fingers in her, running her thumb over his tip before each downward motion. They moved their faces closer, mouths open as they breathed their heightening pleasure into each other, lips brushing as they shifted against each other.

When he felt her inner muscles begin to twitch and clamp down against his fingers, he knew he was going to lose all control. They came together, each grasping onto the source of their ecstasy as they rode out the waves of please. He dropped his head to her chest as he tried to come back to earth.

"Oh my god," he said loudly before he whispered, "That was—"

"So amazing," she completed, speaking more in sighs than in words.

"I never…" he started, shaking his head and smiling at her like he was trying to decide if he should say what he was going to say. His inhibitions were post-orgasmically lowered so he finally said, "I didn't think doing that could be as good as actual sex. I mean…holy fuck."

"Now you still have something to look forward to," she answered.

His hands migrated to her ass and he pulled her to him, his mind already piqued at the prospect of doing anything intimate with her. He wished he wasn't so exhausted because he wasn't ready for their fun to end. He lowered his forehead to her shoulder.

"Must be all that training," she said as her fingers gently rubbed the back of his neck. "FBI agents know how to use the assets they have to make the most out of a situation."

Finally feeling his strength return enough to get up, he stood, picking her up in his arms and carrying her to the bathroom. He handed her a warm washcloth to clean up and chuckled as he said, "I don't exactly remember them teaching that at Quantico."

He carried her back to the bed, and then looked at the cot, wondering if he should offer to sleep there. She took his hand and pulled him into her bed. Facing away, she dragged his arm over her so he was spooned behind her, his arm pinning her close against his chest. They lay there for a few minutes and she said, "Kurt?" wanting to tell him one more thing before she fell asleep. Then she heard a soft snore, and realized exhaustion had finally taken him. So she turned over her shoulder, patted his cheek affectionately and whispered, "Good night."


	5. Final Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-there is a mature content warning for the last section of this chapter. Thanks to all of you for sharing this obsession.
> 
> I do not own the characters of Blindspot.

Weller woke to the smell of breakfast and the sound of a child laughing as she ran down the hall past the bedrooms. He missed Sawyer and Sarah since it reminded him of the days when they'd lived with him.

Sadira slid a cup of coffee across the counter to him when he came to the kitchen. After a few sips he put the mug down and stretched. "Where's Jane?" he asked.

Pointing out to a sunroom off the kitchen, Sadira said, smiling sweetly, "Painting. Lily scooped Jane up as soon as she woke and she won't give the poor woman a moment's rest."

Jane was sitting on the ground next to the girl and they swirled finger paints on long pieces of paper. He couldn't quite hear the words, but Lily seemed to be talking non-stop as Jane patiently listened and nodded, only occasionally replying. He saw Hark out of the corner of his eye, sitting at the table fretting over a computer. "Everything alright?" Weller asked as he sat down with his friend.

Hark looked like he hadn't slept. He pushed a stack of printed papers to Weller and said, "These are all of the possible places that I think Jane might have been taken as a child. Some probably don't exist anymore, but area locals may have some information."

Weller took the stack, glancing at the names and addresses, and replied, "Thank you, this is great." Watching Hark's concerned expression, Weller followed up, "If you came up with so much information, why do you look so unhappy?"

Hark sighed and admitted, "Kurt, none of these places are good places for a child. Some children were trained as thieves and pickpockets or foot soldiers, used as laborers. Some were used for non-essential or paired organ donations on the black market. Some were illegally bought and sold to the highest bidder. Some of the things you might come across at these places could be horrific."

"Oh hell," Weller said as possibilities flew through his mind.

"I got a hold of the results of the FBI's physical from when she was first found. They were very thorough because they weren't sure what crimes had been perpetrated against her. The good news is that she didn't show signs of chronic sexual abuse. She does have evidence of other types of abuse…many bones that had been broken and healed, particularly fingers and toes, a couple of ribs, probably while she was still small. Some may have been the result of combat later on in life."

"I wonder if the FBI has any idea how much access you have. Is there anything you don't have access to?"

"A few things. Her particular skill set points to the chance of some sort of training facility, unless the training happened after she was at the orphanage. She's probably been through a great deal in her lifetime."

"Well, I certainly didn't assume the last 20-30 years have been good for her," Weller replied, trying to ignore the rage that was building in him at the very thought of someone hurting her.

"What I'm trying to say is, at the very best, she was neglected. Chances are that she was kept by rather unscrupulous people. Those kids are emotionally and psychologically broken. If she recovers memories, and she probably will, it could be very painful for her."

"You think it's best if we don't pursue this?"

"On the contrary. I think you should. The trauma, the pain, is all buried somewhere deep in her subconscious. It's with her every moment, even if she doesn't know that it's there. She's going to need you, someone she can count on to stand by her during this time."

"That's not a problem," Weller answered, firming his jaw with resolve.

"If she locks down or starts having a break…you need to get her back here. Recovering memories like that can lead people to bouts of depression, catatonia or even suicide. She may need counseling or rehabilitation. Don't underestimate the effect memories like these can have on a person…no matter how strong."

"I get it."

"I just want you to be prepared. This won't be easy. You're close on this one. You care about her."

"I do," Weller answered adamantly. "And I won't let her down."

"We can help you, if you need us. I'll give you a satellite phone and a few contacts, should you need them, if you choose to go."

"It's up to Jane. But she's fearless. She'll go."

"We can get you there. We can also bring you back when you're ready."

"Thank you," Weller said, shaking his friend's hand. "I'll talk to Jane. How soon could we leave?"

"As early as tomorrow, if I can find a safe flight. I need to make some arrangements. That should be plenty of time to get everything ready. There's one more thing."

"What's that?"

"What if you find some of the people who took her? What if you come to face-to-face with people who may have abused her or at the very least kidnapped her?"

"I'm assuming the guy who took her is dead. She said he was old."

"But I'm sure he didn't act alone. There were likely other people at the orphanage. People who trained her, possibly held her captive. Are you prepared to handle that? Chances are good there is little or no evidence left of those crimes. They will probably never face justice."

Weller thought for a moment about the satisfaction of taking someone who could hurt a child and obliterating them from the face of the earth, but he thought Hark wouldn't care for that answer. "It isn't about me and how I feel. It's about Jane. I'll be there for her."

Hark smiled sadly and bowed his head. "I met one of the men responsible for the attack on Sadira," he confessed. "I wanted to find them for so long, but the day I finally met him was one of the worst days of my life. Be ready. When you really care about someone, it's harder to forgive those who have hurt them than it is to forgive those who have hurt you."

"I deal with killers, terrorists and all types of criminals on a daily basis. I had to deal with my father. I think I can handle it," Weller said with some irritation.

Hark patted the younger man's shoulder, "I hope so."

Weller walked out to the sun room and sat on the floor next to Jane, propping himself up with his hands on the floor behind him. Lily smiled at him and started to explain her painting in elaborate detail for such a young person. He looked at Lily, seeing her sweet innocence. She'd been cared for, loved and provided for, and had never known the pain of abandonment or the type of fear that Jane probably knew when she was a child. With any luck, Lily would never know that kind of tragedy. Weller felt rage continue to bubble inside him when he thought of the people who'd robbed Jane of such a peaceful existence.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Jane elbowed his side. "You okay?" she asked.

"I'm just…so amazed by all of the talent in this room," he said flatteringly, smiling widely at the girl and then at Jane. "Picasso had nothing on you two."

Playing along, Jane told Weller about the things she'd painted with the same detail that Lily had, and he nodded, acting like he was a critic taking in a fine piece of art. "Well done, ladies," he commented. "I'm sure I'll see your work on a museum wall some day very soon."

They continued to paint as he watched. Jane wasn't a broken down empty shell. In fact, she was one of the most alive people he had ever met, complicated and burdened, certainly, but still vibrant. If someone or something had attempted to kill her personality and replace it with a mindless, dissociative drone, they'd failed miserably. Jane was so compassionate and empathetic, and cared more for helpless strangers than many people did for their own families. Maybe her childhood hadn't been that bad after all. At least that's what he hoped.

Sadira called them for breakfast, and the girl jumped up and ran to the kitchen, knocking over a water container they'd used to clean their fingers between colors. Jane hopped into action, grabbed paper towels that were kept wisely nearby, and cleaned up the spill without a word.

The silence was a little awkward, so he said, "See, all those quick reaction skills you have are useful in all kinds of situations. You should do a commercial…maybe for a ninja cleaning service. You could do your own voiceovers in twenty different languages."

She smiled and chuckled, shyly, as soon as their eyes met. Tossing the wet towels to the garbage, she still didn't speak as she tucked her hair behind her ear. He leaned closer, gently kissing her cheek before he whispered, "Good morning."

"Good morning," she answered.

"Are we okay? Are things good?" he asked, worried that she was having regrets.

"Oh yea, we are good…we are so good," she smiled reassuringly.

"Good. That's good."

They were perfectly able to stay cool in the most dangerous of situations, but here, alone, trying to have a casual morning after talk, they were both so uneasy.

Leaning close enough to whisper he asked, "Just so there's no confusion later on…after what happened last night, are you going to make me sleep out on the sofa tonight?"

"No way," she replied, adamantly shaking her head.

"To clarify further…should I expect to move to the cot so you can stretch out in that nice big bed all alone?"

She shook her head, biting her lip, as she still grinned, "I think we can share."

"That's overwhelmingly charitable of you, Jane. I might be pushing my luck but…do you think maybe I'll be able to get a kiss goodnight?"

"I'm okay with that," she answered coyly.

"And touch you?"

"I don't see any problem with that. In fact…," she said, suddenly looking right into his eyes, "I was kind of hoping we could do a lot more than sleeping, kissing and touching."

His mind raced a mile a minute, and he didn't seem to care that she could probably tell exactly what he was thinking. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted," he said, glancing at his watch, jumping up and helping her to her feet. "You ready for bed?"

"It's still morning. You haven't even had breakfast yet," she smirked as they both grinned, stupid with affection.

"It's bedtime somewhere," he said, reaching for her hip and pulling her a bit closer.

"Aunt Jane!" Lily said, flittering into the room and tugging Jane out of Weller's arms.

"You're _Aunt Jane_ now?" he called after her.

* * *

After breakfast, Hark informed Jane of the progress he'd made, and made the same offer that he'd made Weller: to help her trace her past. She was immediately interested, and completely unconcerned with any complications, assuring him that she just wanted to know who she was and where she came from.

They needed a few clothes and other items for their trip but it seemed risky to allow Jane to be seen so close to the place where she'd been held captive. Hark and Sadira agreed to go on a supply run for their friends. Lily begged to stay home with her new babysitters.

Hark and Sadira left late-morning. Weller put a few messages on the board where they thought Rich Dotcom was reaching out, and he was checking it for updates almost constantly. He saw Jane run past him, tiptoeing, while Lily called out random numbers and a few made-up numbers in her own version of "counting" to play hide-and-seek.

Weller followed Jane into the laundry room and went into the closet with her. "I think the kid should be disqualified," he said, feigning seriousness, "I mean…is twelveteen even a number?"

"She's sweet," Jane countered.

In the distance, they heard the little girl warning that she was coming to find Jane, ready or not.

"She really likes you," Weller said. "You're good with her."

"I'm not really doing anything," Jane insisted. "I just kind of go with the flow."

"You know, you'd be an amazing mother," he commented.

"I doubt that," she demurred.

"I'm serious."

"Well, I'm pretty sure teaching children to shoot an M4 or disarm an intruder is frowned upon," she joked.

"Only for children under ten," he teased, pleased to see her laugh.

She opened her mouth to counter, but heard Lily's tiny thumping feet tap on the tile in the laundry room. Weller grinned mischievously and shouted, "I found her," opening the door to the closet and presenting Lily with her target. The girl squealed with glee folding her hands and jumping in a show of excitement.

"Good job!" she told Weller.

* * *

They played hide and seek and various other games, got snacks and took care of other basic babysitting duties, all strange tasks for Jane. When she really let go of her worries, she could feel what it would be like to be an ordinary person instead of a human deadly weapon with a treasure map inked into her skin. It was fun while it lasted, but when she heard Hark and Sadira return, she was both grateful to return to her familiar life and sad to leave the novelty of an ordinary one.

When Lily went to take her nap, they resumed planning. Hark had procured a handgun for Jane so that she, too, would be armed. He had satellite phones for each of them, and ways to contact him and Sadira if they needed to return. Additionally he provided them with passports, credit cards and some money. "Use the credit cards," Hark asked, "because I can track your movement. Here is new identification. You're Americans working with the Peace Corps. We kept the first names, but your last name is Evans. Your search could take you almost anywhere in the world. Some places women still need to be accompanied by family or a husband, so we thought it would be in your best interest. We've provided some headscarves and wraps that you can use to easily obscure your tattoos if you need to at any point. Your flight leaves tomorrow morning. There's a cargo plane of educational and medical supplies bound for Kenya. You will be on that flight. These are the locations and some names of people who may have information."

Jane looked momentarily overwhelmed and she said, "Thank you for this. I can't imagine how much this is costing you. How can I repay you?"

Sadira somberly spoke, "We do need your help while you are there. A mission of sorts."

Jane immediately tensed, remembering Oscar's missions and their impact on those Jane cared for. "What sort of mission?"

"All of these locations may have housed people, particularly children. Many of them were run by unscrupulous people. If you find anyone, adult or child, who is being held against their will or being used for nefarious purposes, we would like you to tell us."

"That's it?" Jane asked.

"That's it. We can send in people to help them."

"We'll do all we can to help, right, Kurt?" Jane asked.

"Yea. We obviously aren't going to allow innocent people to suffer," he replied.

"Send us the exact coordinates and the conditions as well as the number who need help. We can send in a team within days."

Jane smiled, clearly inspired at the thought of being able to help someone again. She stood, hugging Sadira, feeling the bond of people united by a common cause.

They celebrated the rest of the day with food, wine and camaraderie. Weller and Hark disappeared for awhile, heading out for a drive and what Jane assumed was a private talk. She already felt more comfortable in the home with her newly acquired friends. She couldn't help but feel that these were good people who truly wanted to help. She certainly hoped her instincts weren't wrong.

* * *

Weller and Hark were gone long after sunset. Sadira and Lily had gone to bed, and Jane stayed up alone. She had a suitcase opened on the bed as she organized the things she was going to be traveling with. Many of the clothes were those she'd requested, and she was thrilled to have things that felt more familiar. In the morning, this comfortable home would be a thing of the past, and she would leave for Africa where she would have to try to find her way in an unknown place yet again.

Of course this time she'd have Weller. Knowing he would be by her side provided a level of comfort that she wasn't used to, but thrilled to have. She started to secure the straps in her suitcase to hold her garments in place when she heard the door click shut behind her.

"You're back," she said to Weller.

"We stopped at an antique shop," he said, holding up a set of rings. He came closer, taking her left arm from the elbow, curving his fingers under her forearm and moving down until he held her hand in his. "This is the engagement ring I, I mean Kurt _Evans,_ would have bought for you."

"How did you propose?" she asked, "just so we have the facts straight for our story."

"First anniversary of dating. I asked you on a night like this. You were packing for a trip."

"I like that," she said. "Feels more real than some grand gesture."

"Did I get down on one knee?"

"I don't know if that's necessary," she replied. "I'd…or Jane _Evans_ …would rather be able to look into your eyes."

So he held the ring up and said, "So when I asked, you said yes?"

"Obviously," she answered, "I don't know how I could say no."

She held out her fingers and watched as he gently guided the engagement ring onto her finger. "And how about the wedding?" he asked. "Big wedding, small wedding?"

"Small," she answered. "Private. You and I and some people we begged to serve as witnesses because we didn't know anyone."

"So basically we eloped?" he grinned. "Definitely cheaper."

"More romantic," she countered. "Spur of the moment. We were engaged but suddenly decided we just couldn't stand—"

"Not being married for one more day," he interrupted.

"Exactly," she chuckled, watching as he slid the engagement ring off her finger, put the wedding ring on first, and then added the engagement ring. "It's a beautiful set," she commented, taking the ring meant for him from his hand and placing it on his finger.

"Let's think then," Weller flirted, putting his hands on her hips and walking her backward until her back was against the dresser, "we got engaged, had a wedding, then remind me what comes next again?"

"Are you referring to the honeymoon?"

"At least the wedding night. Without that, it's like the wedding never took place."

"Which sort of fits, given that the wedding didn't take place," she giggled.

"Why do you have to be so difficult?" he teased, moving in for a lingering kiss.

His hands tightened on her hips, lifting her until she sat on the edge of the dresser. Still clothed, their bodies began to rock together, her legs winding around his waist. She reached between them, rubbing his growing arousal with her palm. His breath grew more ragged and he grabbed her hands, pulling them away as he whispered, "Don't rush me," against her neck. He pulled her shirt off and then quickly removed his own, the hair that dusted his chest and abdomen tickling her bare skin until he crushed her body to his.

She was lifting her hips to him, wordlessly begging for him not to dawdle, and her need was infectiously erotic. Jane knew what she wanted, and he loved that about her. Always shy and confident, fragile but strong, a mix of seemingly opposing traits that made her unique and so special to him. He stepped away from the dresser, one arm around her holding her up while his free hand quickly pushed her pants and panties down to the floor. He even yanked off her socks because he didn't want to encounter any fabric on her body.

As he placed her back on the dresser, she hurriedly reached between them; the clanging of the metal of his belt made him groan. How was it possible they had waited so long for this? The need that was building in him told him that it had been far too long. He needed this on a level that was both physical and beyond physical. She lowered his zipper, reaching into his boxers while her toes pushed all of his remaining clothes to the floor. She stroked him a few times, as if he needed any help being hard and ready for her.

The mere passing thought of her with another man made him slightly nauseous, so he didn't want to disappoint her here or anywhere. He wanted to be memorable, to be the man she would return to time and again for any and everything she needed. He started to drop down to his knees, drawing her legs over his shoulders, but she stopped him. "No," she ordered, yanking him back to standing, "I want you inside me. It's all I've been able to think about. Did you get condoms?"

He nodded and then negotiated, "I'll get them in a minute." He slipped a finger against her heat, watching her back arch at the sensation, knowing that she was as ready for him as he was for her. He lined up with her entrance, pressing his tip against her as he asked, "I promise I'll stop in time. Okay?"

She didn't answer, she just shifted her hips forward, using her hands to push her body away from the dresser and toward him. His hands spread across her back, slowly lowering her down, committing the pleasured look of her face to memory. The tight grip of her slick heat enveloped him, and he gritted his teeth as he gained control of his racing body and mind. He held her up, slowly pulling out of her before sliding his full length back into her warm body. Each time he fully entered her, he pressed her hips down so she would feel the friction on the bundle of nerves that he couldn't touch with his hands at the time. It felt like she was climbing against him. With each whisper of his name, he unraveled a little more.

She was speeding things up, and he couldn't refuse her, plunging deep into her body again and again until she opened her mouth in a silent scream. Her fingers digging into his shoulders as her heels pressed into his body, refusing to allow him to leave as she rode out her orgasm, she rocked her hips almost unnoticeably until she couldn't move any more, her body hanging limply against his.

He carried her to the bed, shoving the suitcase she'd so meticulously been organizing onto the floor. Gently kissing her forehead and neck as he lay her down, he reached for a bag that he'd brought back with him. His hands could barely open the package of condoms, and he marveled that he was able to hold off through her climax, because she was the most erotic, most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She took the package, her hands more steady than his, opened it, and the moment it was open he grabbed a condom and ripped it open like his life depended on it.

He rolled it on and slid back into her, finding her lips for a kiss for a moment before he lifted his chest, hooked her knees over his elbows and started to give in to his need. He was almost stunned when she somehow managed to flip him onto his back. She pushed his hands to the bed over his head, her breast coming to his lips before she placed her hands on his stomach and she started writhing over his body. He kept his hands over his head for a moment, simply receiving the pleasure she was offering him. Surrendering control wasn't exactly easy for him, though. After a few moments, he brought his hands to her body where he felt they belonged, feeling her ass, her gyrating hips, and she gasped, "God, Kurt, I think I'm going to come again."

That gasp swept away all of his remaining control and he started thrusting into her from beneath as she met each of his thrusts. All of the glorious erotic tension and buildup hit its peak and then capsized as his senses scattered and every synapse in his brain fired with only one sensation: pleasure. Just as his ears started to hear and his eyes started to see again, he heard her gasping the final breaths of her own orgasm before she fell onto him.

He rolled her under him carefully, regretfully getting out of bed to get rid of the condom. He wished he could have stayed there next to her, inside her, for as long as possible. Her eyes were filled with affection as he returned and she curled next to him, both of their minds soaked in post-bliss hormones that only made them feel more enamored.

He kept rubbing her back, feeling the softness of her naked skin and wishing, in some ways, that they could just stay right there in that room and never leave.

As if sensing his thoughts, she asked, "Are you ready to go tomorrow?"

He shrugged, but replied, "I'll be ready. You?"

She nodded, "I like it here though. Maybe we can come back some day?"

"I'm sure we'll stop here when we come back home."

"Are you scared of what you may find out about me?" she asked, her fingers placed delicately on his chest.

He stared at her in a way that only he could, blue eyes boring his certainty into her. "No. Don't worry about that. I told you, I know who you are. Nothing about who you were can change that."

"Are you sure?"

"I promise you, Jane. Nothing will change that. I hope the same goes for me."

"What would I learn about you that would change how I feel?" she asked.

"Lots of things. Plus I can be a real asshole when someone hurts my woman. I get a little protective."

"I never noticed," she joked, lifting her head and smirking at him.

"Better get some sleep," he said, playfully patting her butt. "Tomorrow's a big day."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Chosen**

I don't own the characters of Blindspot

* * *

Sadira and Lily bid their farewells to their friends in the morning as Hark drove Jane and Weller to a small private airport several hours away. "Call if you need me," Hark said, offering each of them a hug.

Weller was loading the plane with their things and Hark whispered to Jane, "Take care of my friend, please. Even if he doesn't admit it, he needs someone to lean on."

She hugged Hark and said, "Thank you for everything. We'll see you soon."

Weller returned, shaking Hark's hand before he grabbed Jane's and nodded toward the plane. "You ready?" he asked her.

The airplane was a cargo plane, not nearly as comfortable or nice as the planes they'd ridden for work before. They sat in the seats alongside the body of the plane. Initially Jane's fingers were digging into the seat, but Weller took her hand and held on just tightly enough.

The ride was loud, bumpy and chaotic, and she kept remembering the very first day she truly remembered: the day she climbed out of the duffel. That day had been one full of terror as the authorities ordered her hands over her head and treated her like a criminal, but she had no idea what in the hell was going on, who she was, or why she was being treated that way. She remembered the blinding lights, exams, blood tests, scans in chilly rooms and the questions. So many questions. She remembered feeling like she had a sunburn all over her body where she'd been tattooed. She remembered the first time Kurt interrogated her. He had a calming presence, even before he was her ally, and she somehow felt better just being around him. Now he was so much more than an ally.

Weller maintained a reassuring touch for the entire flight. She loved that he could say so much even when he was silent. "This reminds me of the first time I was deployed. It was the same kind of plane," he mentioned.

Jane leaned closer to him, both to hear over the deafening noise of the aircraft and just to be nearer to him. "Where were you deployed the first time?" she asked, unwilling to miss even a word of one of his all too infrequent personal disclosures.

He told her about his first deployment, stories about Sarah and Sawyer, and even about his earlier years in military school. Jane wasn't stupid, so she knew that he was trying to distract her from her fear by sharing more about himself than he typically did. But she enjoyed it anyway.

The landing was rough and rattled the last of her nerves. The plane landed in the western region of the country, in a clearing in an otherwise hilly, forested zone. Their contact in Kenya gave them a vehicle so they could drive to locations within the area. Neither wanted to waste any time, so they began almost immediately.

The trip certainly didn't begin as she'd expected it to. They visited three locations on the list from Hark in just the first few days, and they didn't see or hear anything that led them to believe atrocities were being committed at those sites. They referred a few families who seemed to be in need of assistance to the nearest charity group. Overall, the first leg of their trip was more romantic than harrowing. They bonded over this cause with only each other to rely upon. Many of the things they saw during their first few days, like animals, exotic landscapes and amazing sunsets, were beautiful. That beauty left them unprepared for what they found on their fourth full day there.

* * *

During a call with Hark, he asked them to check a location that he hadn't shared with them before. There were scattered reports from a small village that raised concerns. This place was so remote that Hark arranged for someone to drive them.

The area they were sent to was more arid, and although vaguely aware that they were going northwest, they weren't exactly sure of their location. They passed a few small towns of little or moderate means, but when they came across a slightly more affluent settlement, they didn't immediately see anyone who needed their help. The driver, Emmanuel, a tall, slender but muscular young man with charcoal eyes and a friendly smile who spoke very little English, pointed at a large home that was even nicer than other homes in the town. He said, deliberately, "Danger."

Weller asked Jane, "What do you think?"

"Let's go around back," she suggested, "look for anything suspicious."

They didn't see anything at first. The only truly strange feature was that all of the occupants that came and went over the next hour were males, many of whom had distinctly American accents. Jane caught sight of something on the upper floor and said, "Check it out. Third floor, center window."

Weller followed her instructions and immediately noticed the man she had been talking about. "He's certainly well-armed for a quiet afternoon at home." After thinking for a moment, Weller said, "We could tell them we had car trouble. Mention that we heard American accents, so we stopped for help."

"Maybe that will get us inside, or at least give us a peek in the door."

Jane knocked, sharing their fabricated story with the man who answered the door. He seemed generally dissatisfied, his skin burnt from the sun except the rings around his eyes that had been protected by sunglasses. "Come on," he nodded in, pointing at chairs in the front room and ordering, "wait here."

The front room was like a hunter's showcase, with various animal skins and mounted horns. Fine leather chairs were placed across from a sturdy wooden desk that made the room look more like an office than a living room.

A balding, middle-aged man strolled in a few minutes later, wearing an expensive suit jacket over a tee shirt and jeans. He smiled widely, offering an attempt at a welcoming attitude that was so overly friendly that it seemed a bit frightening. "I understand you had a problem with your car?"

"Yea," Weller said, doing his best impersonation of a relaxed tourist, "It figures. Out in the middle of nowhere when the car breaks down. Can you give us a hand or at least let us make a call. Neither of us can get a signal on our cells."

"What brings you out here?"

"My husband has always dreamed of going on some safari," Jane groaned. "I don't know how I let him talk me into this. I'd rather be on a cruise in the Caribbean than out here with a broken down car in the middle of god-knows-where."

"There are guided safari tours all over Africa. Wouldn't it be safer to be with one of them?" the middle-aged man asked.

"I wanted the real experience," Weller said, "not some show put on for tourists."

The man's smile neutralized and flattened. He sat in a chair near them, crossing his legs and brushing some unseen bit of dirt from his pants. "Car troubles do often happen at the most inconvenient time. How fortunate, though, that you were right here when it happened. So close to my home."

"When we got close we heard someone speaking English," Jane answered with her own forced smile.

"It's fortunate you broke down near anything at all. Around here, you can go hundreds of miles and encounter nothing but dust, shrubs and lizards," the middle-aged man said as if there were an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

"Just lucky I guess," Weller answered.

They heard a scuffle, soft but noticeable, and something that certainly sounded like a child calling for help. The man's eyes darted between them and any remaining trace of friendliness evaporated. "Luck? Bad luck, perhaps," he said. "You should have taken the tour."

Reacting on instinct, Jane grabbed her gun as she saw the man reach into his coat. Weller jumped, punching the man and watching as he fell to the ground. Weller quickly snatched the man's gun. "Grab that curtain cord," he said to Jane, taking it from her to tie the man to a water pipe.

"Something's definitely going on here," she started, turning when she heard gunfire from the stairs and taking out the shooter before he was able to hit Weller.

"Hurry," he said, heading toward the back of the house to make sure no one else was on the ground level.

They rushed to the second floor, finding the same fine furnishings and hunter's décor that they'd seen downstairs. A narrow door with several locks waited near the end of the hall. Trading thoughts with their eyes, Weller shot the locks off of the door and Jane pulled it open. Rickety wooden stairs led up to the third floor attic. As they almost cleared the top of the steps, the guard they'd seen from outside shot at them, but Weller returned fire and took out the threat.

Using their military-style training and precautions, they stepped up into the attic, their eyes trying to adjust to the diminished light. Compared to the meticulously painted walls, fine wood floors and trophies they'd found on the lower floors, the attic was bare wood slat, with splintery floors and bare light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. They found two children, probably between seven and ten years old, cowering in the corner near a worn mattress.

Jane rushed over, kneeling between them and asking, "Is anyone else here?"

The girl answered back in a dialect that neither Jane nor Weller could identify, but somehow, Jane knew how to speak. She ordered the children to get behind her in the corner so she could guard them if anyone else came upstairs. Weller marched to the next room, bursting through the door to search for anyone else who might be trapped. She didn't hear him for a minute and she called into the air, "You okay?"

Her heart thumped out of rhythm with fear as she thought something had gone wrong. She stepped carefully toward the door, still attempting to keep one eye on the stairs. Looking quickly over her shoulder, she saw Weller kneeling in the corner, still not responding. "What's going on in there?" she asked, yelling, "Kurt!"

Finally he turned over his shoulder like he'd been startled back to reality. He reached down gently, like he was picking up something extraordinarily delicate, and stood, carefully replying, "Let's get the hell out of here."

Weller carried a small girl, maybe five or six years old, who was unconscious. Jane reached over to the child's neck, feeling for a pulse to assess how urgent the situation was. She stooped in front of the smaller of the two children who'd remained with her, and carried him piggyback. She took the other child's hand and instructed her to hang on to her holster so Jane still had both hands free to hold her gun and brace her arm if she needed to make a shot.

She led the group back down the stairs, trying to protect the children and Weller since his hands were full. They both noticed that the man they'd restrained in the first floor front room was gone, so they had to be additionally careful in case he was waiting to ambush them. Rushing out into the streets, a few residents took notice. The boy on her back started clinging tightly to her, and the girl who was holding onto the holster grabbed Jane's shirt with her free hand. It was clear the children were so terrified of being forced to return that they were willing to follow these two strangers to wherever they might be taking them.

Emmanuel brought the truck closer, screamed a warning, and Jane saw one of the men from the house charging out into the street as the other residents scattered.

The driver urged them to get in the car. Weller rushed to the back seat, the girl still unconscious in his arms. Jane lifted the older girl into the back seat next to him, and had to pry the little boy's fingers open to move him to her lap. She held on tightly, feeling him sigh as they pulled away. They tore down the road, a thick, yellowed dust cloud left in their wake. They were going as fast as humanly possible, faster than they should have been going, as Emmanuel took them to a safe place. Jane shouted to Weller in the back seat, "How is she?"

"Not good," he answered. "She needs help _now_."

Jane translated for Emmanuel, and as he continued to navigate them to safety, he assured her, "Soon there."

They entered a more wooded area, but Emmanuel seemed to know exactly where they were as he found trails and dirt roads just big enough for their vehicle. Weller was disappointed when they pulled up to the facility and realized they weren't at a hospital. "What the hell is this?" he barked.

"Good help here," Emmanuel assured.

Weller stepped out because he wasn't sure what other choice he had, relieved when a few people who appeared to have medical training rushed out with a stretcher. "I've got her," he ordered, "tell me where to take her."

Inside, a sitting room was converted into a waiting and storage area, and a room next to the kitchen was set up for patient care. Medical staff took the child from Weller's arms and placed her on a gurney. For as disorganized as the facility looked, the medical staff certainly knew what to do, and they were very quick and efficient. In only a few moments, they were pumping the child with IV fluids and had her vitals monitored. She looked so tiny and utterly helpless there on the table.

Weller stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed and feet planted firmly on the floor as he supervised everything, refusing to let the girl leave his sight even for a moment. Jane called Hark and advised him of the situation.

After things settled, Jane went to check on the other two children. The boy and girl were in a bedroom upstairs, all of their wounds cared for, well hydrated and fed, wearing clean clothes and lying on clean sheets watching an old tube TV. "Are they okay?" Jane asked the two young women who were staying with them.

"I think they'll be fine," the first woman said, "in time. They were fortunate that they were only there a few days. Their aunt will take them in. She's coming tomorrow."

"Their parents?" Jane asked. "What happened to them—," she started, stopping when she realized the parents would not be coming for them.

The boy smiled at her, saying in broken English, "Thank you. Soon we go home."

Jane introduced herself, reaching out to shake their hands. "I'll be downstairs if you need me," she assured them, watching as the boy moved next to his sister, placing his head in her lap. The girl seemed more distant, but when her brother came close, she wrapped her arms around him. At least they had each other.

As she went downstairs, Jane had a few memory flashes of a boy, someone she must have cared about. The flashes came and went quickly, ushering in more questions than answers. There wasn't time to address those questions right now, she realized when she saw Weller still standing in the same spot he'd been since they'd arrived, keeping vigil over the child. Jane threaded her arm through his before she said, "Any news?"

"Not yet," he answered, his voice hoarse from lack of use and dehydration. "Holding steady."

She left his side, getting water and a piece of fruit and jerky that were offered them in the kitchen. "Sit down," she said when she came to his side, pushing a chair closer to the girl's bed. He shook his head but she assured him, "You need to take a seat, please."

She sat on the arm of the chair, opening the water and insisting that he drink. He didn't take the food, but she was satisfied that at least he was getting some water. Jane could be just as patient as he could, so she sat there, her arm over his shoulder, waiting with him in solidarity.

"I couldn't save her," he said after an hour had gone by. "After all of this time, that one failure is the thing I can't seem to let go. It always seems to come back to that."

She didn't have to ask; she knew he'd been talking about Taylor. The girl in front of them didn't look much like the pictures Jane had seen of Taylor, but she was the right age, small and innocent, and Weller already felt responsible for her. Defending him, Jane began, "You were—"

"Don't say it," he interrupted, "I was just a kid or whatever. He made a fool out of me. I forgave that man, my _father_. I apologized, comforted him. I welcomed him in my home. I left him alone with Sawyer. He pretended to care about you…held your hand and went along when he knew the whole time that you weren't Taylor."

"Maybe you couldn't save her," she said, taking his hand, "and the fact that you take that burden upon yourself…that you still think that even though you were only a ten year old boy, exactly the same age as Sawyer is right now, that you were the one responsible, is part of what makes you the man I know today…someone who means so much to me. I can't think of a better man. Most people aren't willing to take responsibility for the things they actually have done. You're willing to take responsibility for things you truly couldn't control. You don't deserve to carry all that weight on your shoulders, but I love that about you anyway."

He turned and looked at her, studying her face and examining her to judge her sincerity. Or maybe he was waiting for her to say more. He had been perfectly prepared for her to break down, Hark had warned him of that very possibility, but he hadn't been prepared to be the one breaking down. She took his face in her hand, her thumb gently rubbing her assurances so he'd have no doubt of the truth she had spoken.

The gentle light that emanated from the girl's monitors and a fluorescent light on the wall behind her bed provided enough illumination for Jane to see his pain. His eyes were so red that every last bit of white had turned pink. The space between his upper and lower eyelids filled with tears. He tried to keep those tears there, trapped against his eyes by will alone. Finally he blinked, and a fat, insubordinate tear squeezed out of each eye and rolled down his cheeks. She brushed one with her thumb, her own eyes beginning to burn with sadness as his pain seeped through her skin.

Her voice cracked slightly when she added, "Because of your dedication, hundreds, maybe thousands, of people have been saved. I'm here. That little girl," she said, pointing to the child, "she has a chance because of you."

"If she makes it," he replied, looking away.

"Even if she doesn't, Kurt, her final moments weren't spent in captivity. She was rescued by a man who cares about her even though he's never met her before. She is here, where she's safe, clean and comfortable. Where no one can hurt her. You are the only—," she paused, looking over toward the girl for a moment and feeling like this wasn't the time or the place for such a discussion.

"What is it?" he carefully pressed. "You can tell me."

"I know I can, that's kind of the point," she chuckled. "It's just…you are the only man I trust like this. Completely. You're the only man I even _want_ to trust like this."

Still sitting on the arm of the chair, she leaned over him, resting her head on top of his as she kept him close. A nurse came in to check on the girl and change her IV bag and did another assessment of her vitals. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Mid-afternoon the next day, the girl's eyes fluttered open. At first she was terrified, surrounded by more unfamiliar faces speaking a language she didn't know. When she started to speak, Jane understood her words as a dialect of French, and was able to communicate. She assured the child she was safe, introduced her other rescuer, and promised her they'd do everything they could to help her. The girl nodded during introductions, but refused to provide them with her name even when asked.

At first the child was frightened of everyone, but particularly of Weller and any other man whom she happened to see. He patiently sat nearby, and, with Jane's assurance that he was perfectly safe, the child started to play cards with him and accept the food he would offer her. Their patience was rewarded as the girl slowly began to emerge from her shell.

They were unable to find any information about her family, and whenever they asked, the child would begin to withdraw. Hark agreed to find her temporary placement while doing research into the whereabouts of her family. He felt it was safest to provide therapy and support for the child as soon as possible.

The doctors agreed she would be okay to fly after a few days since, at least physically, she seemed to be doing much better. Although they didn't say it, both Weller and Jane were sad to know the child was leaving, but they were pleased to know she'd be safe while they continued their search.

When Sadira personally arrived to get the girl, Weller worried, "What are you doing traveling like this?"

"Like what?" she asked. "You mean pregnant?"

"Yea," he started, clearly about to go into a longer tirade.

She stopped him, "When I was pregnant with Lily, I was out working until two days before she was born. I'm still two months away. People still need us, whether I'm pregnant or not."

He looked like he was about to argue, but sensed that he was going to lose. Besides, she was already walking over to the little girl. Jane and Weller introduced the girl to Sadira, promising that she'd be safe.

Jane helped the child get ready to leave while Weller pulled Sadira aside. "Who is taking care of her?" he asked. "She's been through a lot."

"You've become close?" Sadira asked, fondly.

"No," he denied too vehemently. "She's a nice girl who's been through hell. If I'm promising her that she'll be safe, I want to be completely sure that she'll be safe."

"Hark and I decided she will stay with us for a little while. She needs intensive therapy, stability, and a protected environment. Plus we think seeing Lily may be reassuring."

Weller looked more than just relieved, he looked thrilled. "That's good."

"Next time you and Jane return stateside, you can visit."

"Yea, I guess," he replied, as if he hadn't just been thinking that.

"We'll take good care of her." Sadira looked him over and asked, "Are you quite alright? You look absolutely exhausted. Are you having any symptoms of illness?"

"Fine. Just tired," he assured her. "You can't turn that mothering instinct off, can you?" he teased.

"No, but that doesn't change the facts. You both don't look well. Take a few days before you continue working."

"Weren't you the one who just said that people are still in need even when you're pregnant? Aren't they still in need even when I'm tired or does some sort of double-standard apply?"

"They are."

"You guys don't seem to take a break," he argued further.

"We do. We've found ways. I guess our life and work have really become entwined."

"I don't know if that's good."

"Maybe, maybe not. The thing is, we're passionate about our work and we believe in what we do. But Hark and I love each other and our family, too. If we were to have to give up either, I think we'd feel incomplete. So we find ways to live our lives to the fullest while we work. But you have to have balance or it doesn't work. And if you aren't well, your work will suffer. You'll get sloppy and people will get hurt. You or Jane might get hurt."

"I guess," he acquiesced.

"Hark also mentioned that he was concerned. That maybe this child brought up some memories of—"

"Fine," Weller interrupted, replying as he walked away, "I'll take a day to rest."

* * *

Jane and Weller said their goodbyes to the girl, and she looked up at them with appreciation, tapped her hand to her chest and said, "Mia."

"That's your name?" Jane asked.

The girl nodded at each of them. Still uncomfortable with contact, Weller offered her a high-five that she happily returned. Jane told her they would try to come visit soon.

They watched while the cargo plane took off with Sadira and Mia inside. The bright sun made it hard to follow the plane's ascent for long before they had to look away. "Do you think she'll be alright?" Jane asked. "She must be so frightened."

"I can't think of a safer place for her to be."

"She's alive because of you."

"Because of us," he insisted, moving in front of her and silently demanding her full attention. "Remember what you said the other night…that I'm the only one you want to trust like this."

"Yea," she answered, "I'm sorry if my timing was—"

"You're the only one I want to trust like this, too. I tell you things, trust you with things that I don't trust anyone else with. I'm not good at it, but with you, I want to try. You're worth it…you're worth being that honest with. Even when I really don't want to."

"So are you."

"Jane, I," he started, taking her hand and looking back toward the sun for inspiration, "I didn't want to say this the other night. I wasn't thinking clearly because I was distracted with the girl and Taylor and... I don't like to say important things unless I mean them."

Jane paled, worriedly, "What is it? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he smiled, "The night after you first kissed me outside of my apartment, you remember how I asked you to meet me at that park near my place?"

"Yea, but you didn't show up, and honestly, I didn't either, so it's ancient history."

"But I did show up," he admitted, guiltily. "I waited for you."

"Kurt, I—"

"The timing wasn't right anyway. But there was a reason I asked you to meet me there that night. I wanted to do things right with you. We had chemistry from the start, and I-I don't know. I didn't want us to just end up in bed together some night when a moment got out of control. I wanted to date you, earn you. I wanted to meet in parks. Try to grab a minute alone with you in the locker room. Take you to dinner. Invite you for game nights with my family."

"That's sweet," she smiled, tugging the front of his shirt gently.

"It didn't work out that way though."

"So do you think we should stop sleeping together until we have a chance to go to a few parks and get some dinner?" she teased.

He shook his head, grabbing the back of her hip, "I'm not giving this up."

"Are you disappointed?" she asked, more seriously.

"No. Not even a little. I just don't want you to feel like this—like you and me—we were an accident or something that just _happened_. You were a choice for me. From the start. And I chose you at every step along the way."

"I feel the same. You are who I want," she assured.

"It's more than that," he said, battling internally for a moment. Chuckling, he added, "One minute I tell you I wish I could have done things right with you, and the next minute I'm trying to tell you how I feel while we're standing next to a dirt runway. You can see my idea of romance is a little messed up."

"Maybe it's messed up. Or maybe it's just how we are."

"Jane, I love you. I'm _in_ love with you. And I may not have been able to do things right, with flowers or dinner or…I don't know…but it doesn't mean you didn't deserve that."

She smiled, looking down shyly before she looked into his eyes, "I'm in love with you, too."

"You don't have to say that just because I—"

"I'm not," she insisted. "I've felt like saying that to you so many times."

"If we're going to wait for the perfect time, we'll be too busy chasing leads to your past, or tattoos, or cases, and life is going to pass us by. I don't want to put you and me on hold because this fight…I don't think it's ever going to end. And we might miss out on something that could be good."

"Could be _great_ ," she replied. "I think…maybe it already is."


	7. Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Mature content warning for the middle section of this chapter. Thank you so much, everyone, for your patience with me and your kindness and for your comments.
> 
> I don't own Blindspot or the characters.

Kurt and Jane traveled the next day, heading south to explore more of the locations they'd been given. At first they took a puddle jumper airplane into Tanzania where they met a contact who was supposed to provide them with transportation. The transportation was not what they'd expected, but the only thing available was a motorcycle.

They piled their thankfully limited gear onto the bike, securing their bags to the back with bungee cords. Both Jane and Kurt would have preferred to have their own bike, or at least be the one in control of it. He hopped on the front first, and since she figured he could use something to focus on, she didn't argue. She slid over the seat into the tight space between Weller and their gear and wrapped her arms around his abdomen.

The ride was nothing short of stunning, taking them on partially paved roads through grasslands as they felt the air around them grow more humid with every passing mile. As much as she didn't enjoy the complete lack of control she felt on the back of the motorcycle, there was something pleasant about being smashed against him while they zipped and darted over the terrain.

She did trust him, certainly with her life, but now even with her heart. She was already used to the feeling of his body, and having an excuse to hold tightly onto him while traveling was a nice change. She could feel the rise and fall of his breath when her hands were against his stomach. Just holding him, breathing together, being close, actually made her smile.

They stopped for a break about midway to their destination, and Kurt decided to dial his voicemail back in New York. He did not expect to hear nearly thirty messages. Most were from his team:

_Kurt, it's Tasha. Where in the hell are you? Check in._

_Weller, man, it's Reade. If you need to talk to someone you know where to find me._

_Um, hey, Weller, it's me, Patterson. We're all really worried about you here. Give me a call. We miss you._

_Hey Special Agent. Your team contacted me to see if I've heard from you. What in the hell is going on? In case you've completely lost your mind…this is Allie. Call me._

The messages went on and on. He had two messages from his sister even though he had warned her he'd be out of touch. Seeing his distress, Jane asked, "Is something wrong?"

"At some point I'm going to need to tell my team I'm working on something," he replied. "I think they're worried that I've lost it. Or they think I've been drinking away my troubles for the last couple of weeks. Either way, I probably need to check in."

"If you tell them you're standing in Tanzania with the person who they all feel betrayed them, I don't know if that's going to make them feel much better."

"I need to phone in," he insisted, seeing the terror on her face as she was immediately imagining herself being snagged by the CIA again and thrown into a new pit. "Look, don't worry," he assured her. "Even if they don't trust you yet, they trust me."

Jane nodded, deciding to take a walk to give him a chance to talk with them. He dialed Tasha. "It's me," he simply said.

"Oh my god, Kurt, where are you?" Tasha said, knowing him just by the sound of his voice since the phone number was different.

"It's a long story. Are you alone?"

"Reade is here," she admitted.

"I'm working on something."

"I thought you were on leave."

"I'm working on it on my own. I found Jane."

"Good for you," she said, coldly. "Why do you care?"

"Look, Tash, you're going to have to trust me. She thought she didn't have a choice. They threatened to kill me if she didn't cooperate."

"So why not tell you that from the start? You're a professional, you can handle death threats. It certainly wasn't the first time."

"Look, she made some mistakes. She knows that. She regrets that. But she didn't do anything to intentionally hurt us. It was a really messed up situation."

"Kurt, you've always let your personal feelings cloud your judgment whenever she's involved," Zapata said.

"I won't argue that it has, at times," he replied. "But my judgment isn't clouded with this. The CIA had her. They were torturing her. She's been through hell."

"I'm sorry for that," she said, unconvincingly. "But that doesn't mean we should just forget what happened."

"Look, Tash, I just need you to trust me. She never meant to hurt us."

"I don't know," she scoffed.

"You've trusted me in a lot of messed up situations, following me when no sane person would. I'm asking you to trust me again right now."

"What do you need?" she asked, demonstrating her commitment to her friend and team lead in any situation.

"For now, just your trust, and your discretion. No one can know except you, Reade and Patterson."

"What are you trying to do? What's this mission?"

"That's all need-to-know."

"Uh-huh. And you—you want us to trust her, but you don't trust us? I _do_ need to know."

"Of course I trust you. I wouldn't be calling if I didn't," he argued, then equivocated. "You're right. We're looking into her past, trying to figure out where she came from to help us figure out who she is. She isn't safe until we have some more answers. She'll always be looking over her shoulder waiting for the CIA or anyone who wants the information they think she has."

"Okay," Zapata replied, sounding pleased that he chose to explain. "Will we be able to reach you?"

"Yea," Kurt answered, "use this number. But only call from outside the bureau. And don't tell anyone who isn't part of the team."

"If anyone asks about you?"

"As far as you know, I'm in Miami, working on my tan."

"Okay. Weller?" Zapata asked.

"Yea."

"Be careful," she pleaded.

"I will. Everything okay with you?"

"We're okay. I don't like how the interim boss is handling things."

"Who did they put in charge?"

"Me," Zapata sighed. "We need you. We've been working together so long, it just doesn't feel right without you."

"You'll do a great job," Kurt responded, feeling guilty for leaving them behind. "I'll check in later this week."

He called his sister but got her voicemail, a fact that he was counting on because she never answered calls from unknown numbers. Leaving her a quick message, he promised her that he was alright and hoped to see her and Sawyer soon.

He hung up, watching Jane walking and stretching just a few paces away. "You didn't have to leave," he called out at her.

Sauntering back, her hands on her hips, she said, "I was just stretching. That was a long time to be on a bike."

"You want to stop for the night?" he asked as she came closer.

"I'm fine. Maybe you need a break?" she challenged, playing into their familiar friendly rivalry.

"Me? No!" he huffed. "I just thought you might."

"It's only two more hours," she said, hopping on to the front of the bike. "I can take this last stretch."

He wasn't exactly interested in riding on the back, but he could sense this was an experiment, of sorts. She always demanded to be treated like an equal in the field and he felt she was probably assessing how he'd react to such a circumstance. Besides, out here, she didn't have to take orders from him. They were civilians and equals. Without any real reaction, he put his helmet on, stepped his much longer legs over the bike, and said, "Ready when you are."

He could almost feel the approval coming from her. Jane was tough and certainly capable, and he wasn't going to treat her like she wasn't. Initially he accepted the ride on the back for her benefit, but as she sped down the road, he realized how fun it could be. He felt the wind rippling his clothes around him, and could watch the terrain flying past. As much as he preferred to be in control, he did his best to enjoy the ride without the responsibility, and found out it wasn't as horrible as he'd thought it was going to be.

Then, of course, he had this woman sitting between his legs, their bodies warm against each other. He'd sort of expected to feel less distracted by fantasies of her now that they were having sex regularly, but in reality, the reverse was true. He seemed to want her more now that he had her than he ever did before. There was something about the two of them that just seemed so…was there even a word for it? The sex was beyond fantastic, but it was more than that. He loved her. He had honestly thought he'd never say that to a woman again. When Jane left, he swore off allowing actual feelings for any woman in this lifetime. It hurt too much. But then she came back into his life, and all of his vows of secluded protection were gradually being forgotten.

* * *

They continued until they came to an address provided by Hark. It was a hotel along Lake Malawi. "What do you think is going on here?" she asked.

"I don't know," he answered, looking over the exterior. After their last visit, he tried to be prepared for anything. The last place they'd checked was something from a nightmare, and although this hotel looked pleasant, looks could be deceiving.

They walked into the lobby and a woman behind the desk asked, "Mr. and Mrs. Evans?"

"Yes," Jane said, taking Kurt's arm.

"We've been waiting. Right this way," the woman said, beckoning them toward the counter. "I have you for two nights. Room seven. And this is for you," she added, handing them the key and an envelope.

As they walked to the room, he opened the envelope. _Enjoy the room. Everyone needs a break sometimes, so consider this a well-earned respite –Sadira  
_

Kurt shook his head, "She's really persistent."

"Maybe we should rest a few hours and then keep going," Jane answered, pausing in a walkway with a perfect open air view of the lake. The hotel was so posh, romantic and comfortable, a beautiful oasis after what had been a difficult mission. It certainly was nicer than anything she could remember. "I think she's trying to play cupid."

"Fine by me," he said. Making an obvious excuse, he added, "I don't want to seem ungrateful, so we should at least stay the night. What do you think?"

She smiled at him, obviously knowing where his mind was going just from the look on his face.

They unlocked the door, and right inside there was a built-in table with a large mirror behind it. He dropped his bag on the floor immediately, letting the message and envelope from Sadira lazily float to the ground. He took Jane's bag from her hand and unceremoniously dropped it as well. She tried to turn to face him, but he wrapped his arms around her with her back against his front, pinning her between his larger frame and the table. Keeping her right against to him, he reached out, pushing the door closed and engaging the latch locks.

She smiled into the mirror at him when his focus returned to her, reaching her arms back and resting her hands on the outsides of thighs, pulling him closer. His lips gravitated to her neck and then northward to her ear as he whispered, "It was so damn hard to have you against me for all those hours on that bike and not be able to touch you."

"You were touching me the entire time," she teased, her one hand moving to the back of his head to encourage him to continue.

He stopped, looked right at her reflection, and argued, "Not the way I wanted to touch you."

Gently, he took the holster off her body. His fingers slid under her shirt against her skin and pulled it up over her head, careful of her still healing shoulder, but enjoying the feeling of her flesh against him. He licked the tattoo on her neck as he traced down to her shoulder, and saw how she sort of shrugged to cover the ink. "Don't hide that. I like your tattoos," he said, raising his eyebrows as he removed her bra.

"No you don't," she awkwardly argued.

"Yes. I do, Jane," he sternly answered.

He looked at her body, his hands sliding over her sides and tummy, then cupping her breasts as he rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, his admiring gaze demonstrating his thoughts on her desirability. "God," he groaned, elaborating on those unspoken thoughts with just one word.

She started to move back against him, rocking her ass against his jeans as her fingers grabbed his butt so he couldn't back away.

Dragging the backs of his fingers down her sides, her skin prickled a little at the sensual tickle. He popped open the button on her pants. His fingers wiggled down through her tight jeans into her panties, moving patiently lower, parting her folds and seeking her center. She was so turned on, his finger flicking easily around her nub because she was already soaked with desire. He grinned at her, proud and cocky in the most irresistible way, and she argued, "You aren't the only one who thought that ride was kinda hot."

She tried to make it look like she wasn't already being swept away, but that man knew exactly how to touch her. It was perfect and baffling, but even their first night together, he seemed to already know what she liked, exactly where and when and how to touch her. A few times she wondered why they didn't seem to have the _lover's learning curve_ that she'd expected. It made sense, after all. No two bodies were exactly alike, and people didn't necessarily enjoy the same types of touches, but as clichéd as it sounded in her head, it was like they were made to fit together.

He knew exactly how to touch her sex, when to apply more pressure and when to resort to gentler brushes. He knew exactly how to hit the sweet spot inside her, and even seemed to know about the spot behind her ear and that place between her neck and collarbone.

These thoughts were in her mind, but as he continued to make her body feel all of these incredible sensations, she wondered why in the hell she was thinking about it when she could be enjoying it. She found a man who was so intuitive and considerate that he was practically the perfect lover.

He kept one hand in her panties, circling her bud before sliding into her shallowly, just enough to feel that little pulse of pleasure. His other hand helped push her pants down until he could step on her jeans and shove them to the floor. He didn't let her help, his other arm holding her firmly in place while her head lolled back onto his shoulder. Stepping back just a bit, she felt him fumbling with his jeans and, in the mirror, she could see that he managed to shove them down as far as his thighs and that was far enough.

He leaned her forward a bit, pressing on the small of her back so she was arching for him. Then, with one hand on her shoulder, he used his other hand to guide himself into her body. For a moment he held still. She thought it was out of consideration, but his head was slightly bowed and his eyes closed almost reverently, and he seemed a little overcome. "Kurt?" she whispered with perfect seduction.

His eyes opened and met hers the mirror. She braced her hands on the table and started to move her body against his, sliding him smoothly in and out of her damp core. She pushed back against him, squeezing her inner muscles around him and watching him tip his head back, his mouth slightly agape as he groaned. "You're so incredibly hot," he rasped as his fingers roamed over her back.

"So are you," she whispered, the words turning into a soft, pleasured moan.

He let her take him for a while, moving at her pace. It didn't take long before her rhythm started to quicken, and he knew that she was going to peak soon. Sensing the pulse within her, his arms snaked back around her and pulled her against his chest so she was standing. He wanted to see her face, her body, and the way it looked when he touched her.

His finger slid back against her sex, tantalizing her even further, but he demanded, "Wait for me."

Her eyes changed, cloudy with arousal and affection, but near disappointment at the thought of waiting any longer. "Then hurry," she countered.

In the reflection, she could see his hand as it worked against her, see his face as he was consumed by their passion, and watch the tense muscles in his arms as he held her. He picked up the pace, hearing the tiny cry that escaped her lips each time he was completely inside her. Every time he entered her, angled perfectly to hit that spot, she felt another tiny explosion of additional sensation. His finger started to swirl more quickly against her and the pulses within her were increasing in intensity and frequency as he started to pound into her body. He growled, unable to verbalize any actual word, but she let go as he did, and their orgasms thundered through their bodies. He kept moving inside her, trying to eke out a few more pleasured cries from her, and she felt his body jump a little with sensitivity as it all became too much. He kissed the back of her neck and lowered her to the ground. She hadn't even realized her feet weren't on the floor.

He said, his voice muffled against her skin, "You are _such_ an amazing lay." He lifted his head, looking for her reaction when he thought maybe she'd taken offense to the way he'd said it. "I meant—"

"I know what you meant," she interrupted. Fortunately she was smiling, "You are too," she practically purred. "It's like you're in my head sometimes."

He grinned sort of sleepily, "Oh yea?"

"Yea," she softly chuckled. "I guess we're just really in tune with each other."

"Or maybe I'm the best. That's probably what it is," he jokingly bragged. "I can't help it…I tend to excel at everything I do."

"Oh, and I have nothing to do with that?" she smirked.

"You have _everything_ to do with it," he answered, fondly looking at her. "I said 'maybe' I'm the best. You…I know without a doubt that you are."

Then, like she so often did when she was being admired or complimented, she looked away. He turned her in his arms so she was facing him and said, "You'll get used to it."

"Used to what?" she asked as she hung her wrists on his shoulders.

"Used to me telling you how good you are. How beautiful. How talented. How brilliant. How sexy."

She lightly smacked him as he chuckled, but he tightened his arms around her, quickly kissing her before he stepped back. He lifted her over his shoulder, carrying her further into the room as he stated happily, "I suppose if I'm forced to take a little break, we should make the most of it."

* * *

It was late, dark outside, and Kurt wondered how long he'd been sleeping. He rolled over to the nightstand and checked his satellite phone. There was a text from Hark, telling him to check the message board. Weller logged in and immediately saw that someone finally replied to the messages he'd posted while at Hark's. It said:

**Mike Oxbig:** _Angry Munchkin, is that really you? I don't want any backup singers or tribute bands. You know that I'm a big fan of the real thing. I was lucky enough to get a copy of your original album. Quite a cover. Had no idea you two had been rockin' out so long._

Jane woke, stretching slowly, feeling the soft touch of the sheets against her skin. "Hey, what do you make of this?" Kurt asked, handing her his phone.

"Original album?" she questioned after she read. "What in the hell does that mean? You and I didn't meet that long before we saw Rich on that Morello case."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Maybe Times Square photos? Was there a case we worked on before his that he might be interested in?"

"Maybe."

"How about this?" she wondered, typing a new message that said:

_We always enjoy reliving our greatest hits. Care to show us your purchase?_

Kurt nodded approvingly and hit the button to post the message. Setting his phone aside, he rolled on top of her, his hands sliding over her thighs before he guided her legs around his waist. "Care to create some more greatest hits?" he asked, smiling roguishly.

It seemed like they could barely keep their hands off each other. Of course there was the excitement of new love, but there was also this feeling that there was something more to this that she just couldn't shake. She kept thinking about how good they were like this together, and how it seemed like they knew each other so well, even through their walls. It was almost uncanny. Then she saw Kurt's phone light up with an alert and she asked, "Is that him? If he answered, maybe he's online now."

Kurt blindly grabbed for his phone, and saw that Mike Oxbig had sent a link to a file transfer site. The only message said: _Is it just me, or are multilingual women the hottest?_

Kurt and Jane thought for a few minutes about the message and he said, "The file is probably password protected. Maybe it's a hint."

Jane thought back to their meeting in the Hamptons, and said, "That reminds me of…" Taking the phone and clicking on the link, she tried a few different passwords. "I think he means Bulgarian. He even tested me when we met to make sure I spoke it…" Two more tries failed, and she said, hopefully, "I like all types."

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, confused.

She smiled and showed him the phone and the positive password match. "That was the password. 'I like all types' in Bulgarian. No spaces. God, he's a horny little genius, isn't he?"

"How did you figure that out?"

"It was the only thing I said to him in Bulgarian. It was worth a shot."

Her victory smile faded when she saw the image unscramble on the phone screen.

"What is it?" he asked, taking the phone when she held it out to him. He stared at the first of two images, blinking several times to be sure he was seeing it correctly.

There was a picture of him in his early twenties at an outdoor training site that he didn't immediately recognize. He was talking to a woman and, from the body language, they seemed very familiar. He zoomed in to see the face of the woman and his mouth opened as he stared in shock. He looked at Jane and then back at the phone, and there was no mistaking it. Although she was younger, probably only nineteen at the time, and had a distinctly harsher look about her, the woman next to him in the photo was Jane.

 


	8. Drop-ins

Kurt stared at the photo for a long time before finally questioning, "Do you remember this? I definitely don't remember this."

"No, but there are lots of things I don't remember," Jane replied wryly.

"This is Photoshopped. It's gotta be a doctored photo."

Jane continued to stare, wondering why such a forgery would be advantageous to its creator. Switching to the next photo, there was a group of twelve people, all in their early to mid-twenties, and all appeared to have some sort of military background. There were eleven men, including Kurt, and the young woman who definitely looked like Jane. "Any idea when this photo of you was taken?" she asked.

"I don't remember any of these other people. Let's not get too worked up until we're sure this photo is legit."

"Even if it is a fake, when do you think the photo of you was taken?"

He studied it, noting that he was clean shaven, his hair perfectly trimmed, boots laced, and pants worn according to regulation. He zoomed in on the photo and said, "I'm pretty sure this was taken while I was still in the service. I always kept my dog tags tucked under my shirt, but I think I can see the chain. So I was probably twenty-one or twenty-two. No older than that. Which is proof that it must be forged. If you're five years younger than I am—"

"But we don't know that I'm five years younger," she interjected. "Taylor was five years younger than you, but we've never figured out my exact age."

"True," he capitulated.

"So how do we prove it's a fake? Does Hark have people who could look at it?"

"He probably does, but I don't know who they are, and I'm not sure I want anyone else seeing this yet."

"Okay."

"I say we go directly to the best. We'll ask Patterson to look at it, for her eyes only. She'll be discrete."

He called Patterson, who was so relieved and excited to hear from him, it took several minutes to get to business. She immediately swore herself to silence and secrecy, and even asked how Jane was doing. Patterson's concern gave Jane hope that maybe at least one member of the team besides Kurt could welcome her back again one day. She moved out onto an open balcony, sitting down on the floor and watching the reflection of the clouds in the glassy still water of the lake.

"We should leave tomorrow, early," Jane said after he'd hung up and walked out to join her. "We can still stay tonight, if you want, but I really want some answers. Every time I think I'm going to find answers, I only find more questions. It's exhausting."

Kurt sat next to her, looking out at the same beautiful sight. He would have given almost anything to be able to give her the answers she sought.

* * *

They tried to enjoy their last full day at the hotel, knowing that in the morning they'd continue to face the countless unknowns on the horizon. Kurt kept checking for updates from Patterson or new messages on the message board, but everything was too silent. Finally near nightfall, Patterson called.

"You're on speaker," Kurt admitted.

"Hey, Patterson," Jane quietly added.

"Hey, Jane," Patterson replied a bit awkwardly. "Are you doing alright? I'm sorry the last few months have been so tough."

"I'm okay," Jane answered.

"So I'm guessing you have some news," Kurt pressed. "Tell us what's going on."

"The photo appears to be legit," Patterson replied. "Or it's the absolute best fake I've ever seen."

"How sure are you?" he asked.

"At least 99% sure. I could get a second opinion, but I know you wanted me to keep this quiet."

"Definitely. Sit on it for now, Patterson."

"Will do, boss."

"Thank you," Jane added.

"Good luck, guys. Let me know if there's anything you need," Patterson offered.

"Thanks," he added before he ended the call.

Jane looked distressed, but instead of waiting for Kurt to reach out to her, she reached out to him. He smiled down at her, kissing the top of her head as she tightened her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest. It was a little bit of reassurance that they both wanted this relationship, even though their past seemed increasingly complicated.

* * *

They slept somewhat restlessly, knowing that in a few hours they'd be back to work in earnest. Kurt felt an uneasiness just as the sun began to offer a subtle lightness to the horizon. He sat up, reaching for his phone, surprised when he didn't feel the cool barrel of his gun next to it. He clicked on the light to find it, and saw Rich Dotcom sitting in a chair a few feet from the bed holding the missing gun. "Miss me?" Rich asked with a 'surprise' smile as he flashed the gun.

Jane sat up immediately when she heard the voice and Rich looked at her bare shoulders and said, "So from the looks of things, I'm guessing he got rid of that dull chick, _Coppy McCopperson,_ or whatever her name was, and you two worked out some of that obvious tension. I hate to say I-told-you-so but…wait, what am I talking about, I love to say I told you so. So was it good, or did all of the anticipation and build-up make it a little disappointing?"

"What in the hell are you doing here?" Kurt countered, standing and demanding, "give me my gun."

"Ah ahh," Rich cautioned, pointing the gun at Kurt, "sit down and let's talk." He looked at Jane after evaluating the sight of Kurt in only a pair of boxers and said with a fake whisper, "he's more cut than I'd expected. Great chest and abs. So muscular…I'm surprised." For a moment Rich was distracted by his approval of Kurt and then shook his head. "So you want to know why I'm here. Honestly, I felt really bad that you two missed out on that threesome I offered, so I thought I'd give you another chance to say—"

"Cut the crap," Jane interrupted. "What do you want? You got away, why come back?"

"Whose authority are you going to arrest me on here? Plenty of countries in this area lack extradition treaties, and, face it the FBI has no power here."

"Where did you get those pictures?" Kurt asked as if his lack of technical authority wasn't a concern at all.

"I'm sorry, I can't discuss this until I have a few answers of my own," Rich countered. Looking at Jane again, he asked, "So what's he packing under those shorts? I mean size wise…average…better than average…please tell me it's not below average because that would just—"

"Focus," Jane said, producing a handgun that she'd hidden carefully behind the bed. "Where did you get those pictures?"

"I don't know if you failed to notice," Rich retorted, pointing his gun more directly at Kurt, "but pointing that gun at me doesn't change the fact that I still have his gun pointed at him. So really, are you sure you could get a shot off before I shoot him?"

Completely unfazed, she answered, "I'm absolutely positive I can."

Rich's eyes flashed concern and he pulled the gun back and pointed it at the ceiling. "Come on now, guys. I want us all to be friends and I feel like we're getting off on the wrong foot again."

"Why don't you just tell us what you want?" Kurt impatiently demanded.

"I need something, you need something…"

"What is it that you want?" she asked.

"I was thinking that with my smarts, your tough girl style hotness and his…" Rich paused and looked at Kurt, "I'm trying to remember what it is that you bring to the team."

"If you want something from him," Jane suggested, "it's probably a good idea to try to avoid pissing him off."

"You're so right. Yet another reason why you're my favorite. You saw the little present I sent?"

"We did," Kurt quickly stated, "the fake is so good that my best analyst thinks it's real."

"That's because it is real."

"If you escaped free and clear, why are you even looking into our past?" Jane asked Rich, skeptically.

"I didn't become as successful as I did by ignoring opportunities when they presented themselves. I meet a woman called 'Jane Doe' with your obvious skillset and the tatts that appear to have caught the FBI's interest, and you really think I'm not going to dig into that?"

"We did a highly extensive check into Jane's history and we never found anything like this. Why did it suddenly surface when you looked into it?" Kurt challenged.

Rich confidently replied, "Well, either your people aren't as good as me…which is pretty much a given, _or_ they aren't willing to work with the people I am willing to work with so they didn't know the photos existed at all, _or_ they actually knew they existed but went to extensive lengths to hide them from you."

Kurt moved quickly, leaping out of the bed, knocking the gun out of Rich's hand and pushing both him and the chair over. Kurt grabbed the fugitive by the shirt, lifting him and pushing him against the wall. "Where were those photos taken?"

"Fine, fine, fine," Rich said, his hands lifting in surrender. "They are real. Taken at some training camp for a top secret, off the books squad about thirteen years ago."

"Why don't I remember it?" Weller pressed.

"Look, you can kill me if you want," Rich offered, "but if I die, the information goes with me, so think about that before you do anything rash."

Kurt let go of Rich, asking, "What _exactly_ do you want in return?"

"I want a chance to help you guys in exchange for immunity. Like I said…we can all be friends."

"I can't promise immunity! Definitely not for you," Kurt argued.

"But if I offer to share what I know, or what I _can_ know if properly motivated, I think your bosses would be pretty interested in that. I think Special Agent Weller would be able to sell that if he thought my information was useful."

"Why come to us? Why not just stay in hiding?" Kurt asked.

"I've made enemies. Angry, angry enemies. I'd like protection. Is that really so much to ask?" Rich suggested, his concentration momentarily disrupted by the sight of Jane slipping a shirt and shorts on under the covers. "She was totally naked under there, wasn't she? God, you are so lucky and you really don't deserve it, probably don't appreciate it. Do you go down on her?" he asked Kurt. Quickly turning to Jane, Rich asked, "Does he go down on you? Is he any good at it or does he act like he's only doing it because he has to. I mean, I'm good at it. I like it. I would do it. I still will, gladly. You don't even have to return the favor because I could take care of myself and you could just—"

"Stop," Kurt said, growing impatient with Rich's constant suggestive comments and letting it show.

"Your fuse is shorter now that you guys are actually screwing, hunh?" Rich asked. Looking at Jane, he asked a question in Bulgarian.

She stared unwaveringly back at him and replied in Bulgarian, and Kurt wished to hell he knew what was being said.

"Fine," Rich said in English, "I'll give you one more detail as soon as you let go and move to the other side of the room."

"In exchange for?" Jane asked.

"You both put in a good word for me. I need someone to pitch the 'me-as-a-good-guy' thing. Agreed?"

"How do we know you're not lying?" she questioned.

"I guess you don't," Rich replied twirling the hairs at the end of his beard. "But I think you're dying to know what I know. And you both understand that you can't arrest me right now. I'll give you one more piece of information, but I'll keep a few more details under my hat so I still have bargaining chips later when I need them."

Kurt and Jane exchanged glances, and then they stepped back to the other side of the room. "Fine. What do you know?" Kurt asked.

"You were their two most promising little operatives. But a few things went wrong, and they decided the squad was a liability. You," he said to Jane, "started asking too many questions, so the most obedient soldier…guess who that was?" Rich asked with a sing-songy lilt, looking dramatically at Kurt, "you were ordered to kill the whole squad, including her. Of course they planned on offing you when you were done. Apparently their most obedient little soldier had a conscience…or maybe just a serious hard on for a certain lady that he tried to run off with. I mean, who could blame you. I guess this makes it the second time you decided to ignore your otherwise bland and dutiful personality for the same woman. It's weird though, right? You guys had sick tension over a decade ago, and your attraction for each other seems to keep getting you in trouble. It's like seriously un-safe sex," he mused.

"And why, exactly, don't I remember any of this?" Kurt asked.

"We had an agreement," Rich countered, stepping back toward the balcony. "Just the one juicy tidbit for now. I'll be in touch soon."

"How did you find us?" Jane asked as he backed away.

"Your buddy, Hark, has contacts in the FBI. One of them is on my payroll. He should be more careful."

Rich jumped off the balcony and, with typical Rich flamboyance, landed on some sort of inflatable crash pad before he ran to a waiting car.

* * *

— **January 2003-Secret US Military Training Camp somewhere in Eastern Europe** —

_Sergeant Kurt Weller ran the drills with his new squad. There were eleven men, in total, including himself. He'd been chosen for this squad, selected because of his strength and training, intuition, sound decision making skills, and his ability to take an order and give one. He knew the rules, and followed them. A troubled youth, he'd matured while in the military, working within the structure to repeatedly prove himself. Now he was put in charge of a group who were supposed to be the best of the best. He couldn't tell anyone about this accomplishment. They all thought that he was still serving a typical tour. In fact, his letters were carefully routed to him, but his sister had addressed them all to arrive in Afghanistan, where she thought he was still stationed._

_He'd been given the title of Sergeant when he'd joined this squad. It was his job to make sure everyone was ready, that they were all in peak form, prepared to carry out any mission, at any time, without fail or complication. They all trained hard, and the ten men under him were indeed elite._

_One afternoon, coated in mud, punctures all over his skin from briars he'd crawled through during training, his commanding officer called for him. "Captain McKinley, sir," Weller said when he was told to enter the room._

" _At ease, Weller," McKinley replied. "This is a different type of special ops. When we're not in front of your squad, we can dispense with the formalities."_

" _Yes sir."_

_McKinley smiled at the soldier's automatic response and said, "You have one more coming to your squad, one Remy Smith. I expect she'll arrive within the next 24 hours."_

_Weller tilted his head and asked, "'She', sir?"_

" _Is that a problem, Sergeant?"_

" _For me? No, sir. For most of the men, it won't be a problem. There are one or two…does she know the situation here at camp, sir?"_

" _She does. And she's used to being outnumbered." McKinley's voice grew to a near whisper and he said, "She won't need your protection. I'm more concerned about the safety of your other men, should they choose to challenge her. She is the toughest, most capable operative we've seen. She's also callous, severe, and calculating. She speaks at least ten languages that we know of. She's trained in several forms of combat. She is a weapon, Weller. As impressed as we were with her performance in all of the assessments she's been given, we are concerned with the level of detachment we've seen. It's extensive, even for a combat veteran. This situation is delicate, like dealing with explosives. They are helpful, sometimes necessary, when used properly, but you have to handle them carefully. We also need to be absolutely certain that she can follow orders…no matter what they are."_

" _I'll make sure she's in line, sir."_

" _If at any point, you feel you cannot handle this position, we can promote Connors."_

" _That won't be necessary, sir," Weller replied. Connors was a sociopath, and Weller was certain he was not the right choice to lead this group. "I have my orders."_

" _Very good," McKinley answered. "Dismissed."_

_She arrived later that evening. The men were all in the barracks, playing cards, reading magazines or recounting some of their greatest conquests. Weller sat at the far end of the room on a chair next to his bunk, his feet up on an overturned trashcan as he read a letter from home. She strolled in, military duffel on her back, dressed in full uniform. Finding the one empty top bunk, second from the end and next to Weller's, she quickly hopped up and made her bed according to regulations. The chatter in the room grew quiet as they all looked at her. Everyone, that is, except Weller._

_He'd glanced at her when she first chose a bunk, but otherwise, he returned his thoughts to his letter._

_As she finished, the soldier with the bunk below hers approached. "May I help you with that, miss?" he asked, grinning._

" _Smith," she replied, coldly._

" _Tom Owens," he answered, holding out his hand for her to shake._

_She didn't shake back, turning her attention to her bag as she unpacked a few items before she hauled herself up to her bunk and stretched out, closing her eyes. Owens dejectedly walked back to his card game, muttering, "Good to meet ya."_

_An hour later she hopped down to shower. She grabbed a towel and a man blocked the door. "I'm Connors. You've probably heard of me. Let me show you around," he said. Weller glanced up from yet another letter, knowing that Connors was the one man he really didn't trust to act like a professional._

" _I've got it," she answered._

" _I'd hate for you to get lost. Or have these other creeps looking in on you in the showers. I'll guard the door for you. I don't know if you've heard, but we have quite a pussy shortage up here."_

" _Is that right?" she asked._

" _Yea. So if you're nice to me, I'll make sure they all behave like gentleman."_

" _If I'm nice to you? Hmmm," she said smiling sweetly before her face grew harsh. "How's this for nice?"_

_She flipped him over with one quick move, dropping him on the floor. She grabbed his testicles and squeezed just enough to make him panic. A slight squeal of terror and pain left his lips before she asked, "Is that nice enough for you?"_

_He nodded quickly, his eyes wide. He could barely move to defend himself._

" _Let me make something clear," she said, leaning closer to his face, "I may be here, but as far as you are concerned, there isn't just a…how did you say it…'pussy shortage' here. There is a complete, total, unprecedented pussy famine. Have I been clear enough for even you to understand?"_

_He bobbed his head. She stood up and, as if nothing happened, grabbed her towel and left for the shower. Some of the other soldiers started snickering at his defeat, many of them having experienced his cruelty themselves. Connors jumped up, shouting after her, "Watch your back, bitch," after it seemed abundantly clear that she couldn't hear him anymore._

_The next morning they all trained. She was as good as or better than the men in her squad at every challenge laid before her. Weller wasn't terribly impressed until he saw her actual work ethic and performance level. The woman was truly a highly conditioned weapon. He didn't cut any corners or treat her any differently._

_Later they all practiced their hand-to-hand combat. He noticed that many of the men seemed cautious when paired with her._

_Weller called her into his makeshift ring last. It was cold and muddy outside. The snow that had fallen and melted created a squishy, thick covering on the ground all over the camp. The dried mud and debris actually weighed down their clothes._

_He was covered in mud, his lip bloody and one eye darkened. He'd fought with every single soldier except her. "Let's go, Smith," he said, gesturing her into the circle._

_She rolled her eyes, appearing disinterested at the thought of another half-hearted fight with an opponent who didn't really want to test her. The newest addition to the squad was eager to prove herself, but she needed a worthy challenger._

_She threw a lazy punch, watching while he took her fist, pushed it aside and jabbed her with a kidney punch. For a moment she looked startled, and then she looked satisfied as she realized this was a real challenge. She lifted her fists and took a stable stance, nodding that she was ready._

_Most of the other soldiers paused to watch the fight. Weller deftly stepped aside when she charged again, grabbing her arm and putting her in a headlock, but he couldn't hold her for long before she slipped away. She unleashed a series of kicks, one of which dropped him to the ground before he rolled and swiped her legs out from under her. They went on like this for quite a long time, both talented fighters in their own right. It seemed for a while that the fight would go on forever since neither would surrender. In fact, they almost looked like they were enjoying themselves._

_McKinley stepped out from his building, ending the fight when he called their names. The two stood, both slightly bloodied and out of breath. The other soldiers scattered, although many watched from a modest distance._

" _What do you think?" McKinley asked Weller._

" _If Smith's performance today is any indication of her abilities, she'll be one of the finest in the squad, sir. She belongs on this team."_

_McKinley held his hand out and said, "Remy Smith, we're glad to have you aboard. I hope you understand what an honor it is to be part of Orion. The civilians at home will be able to sleep safe in their beds because of the work you'll do. Get your meal before they shut down the kitchen. Dismissed."_

_Kurt and Remy walked toward the mess hall together, and she said, "May I ask you a question, sir?"_

" _Weller is fine, or Kurt when we're not working…you don't have to 'sir' me," he answered. "What's your question?"_

" _You didn't pull your punches," she replied._

" _No, I didn't. But that's not a question."_

" _I'm just surprised. Every other man out there refused to really fight me. Don't they know that there are tons of highly trained females, and they may have to fight them some day? They should be prepared."_

_He stopped, turning to her and smiling. He really liked this woman. There was just something about her that was hard to resist. "I'll level with you. It's not because you're a woman."_

" _It's not?"_

" _Well…I guess I mean it's not_ only _because you're a woman. They all watched you hand Connors' balls to him last night. I think most of them were a little intimidated. If they don't really try, it's less embarrassing if they lose."_

_She smiled for just a second, looking away for a moment, but finally replying, "I've been in tougher situations than this."_

" _I got that impression," he answered, continuing their walk. "Keep it up, Remy. It's good to have you on the team."_


	9. Behind the Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-The first section of the chapter contains mature content.
> 
> Thank you all so much for continuing to read. Your comments and kudos are thoroughly appreciated. I know some people don't like flashbacks, but there will be flashbacks in many chapters since their past is part of the story. I hope it "works" for this story. Plus I think them young and in love is both hot and adorable. hehe

It wasn't long until they had to leave, so Jane decided to take a long, hot shower before checkout. Kurt stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head. He doubted he'd have a bed this comfortable for quite a while. He was in that place between awake and asleep, his mind still somewhat actively looking for a connection to a piece of the past that he couldn't quite find. He still wasn't completely sure that Rich had been telling the truth. His breath became easy and even, and a quick flash of a dream came to his mind's eye.

The image only lasted a moment, but it was from a recurring dream that he'd had many times over the years. It was a dream, or maybe a fantasy, where he was fighting with a dark-haired, emerald-eyed woman in an otherwise empty boxing gym. The two fought ardently, almost brutally, until she managed to get him to the ground. She pinned him, and the two held still for just a moment. He could never quite tell who made the first move, or what triggered the moment to change from fighting to spine-tingling sex, but he remembered the feeling of her hand palming his cock as he pulled her nipple into his mouth and shoved his hands into her pants. Everything that followed was always the same when he remembered or imagined it.

That dream or fantasy seemed like it had been with him forever. It was something that came to mind when he and Jane had sparred at the NYO shortly after they'd met, but he certainly didn't share that thought with anyone else. He'd always assumed it was just a dream, but what if it was something more?

When she came out of the shower, he rolled on his side, propping himself up on one elbow, and he looked at her in light of his dream. "You okay?" she asked, interrupting the silence.

"You said you've had flashes and memories of your life before ZIP, right?" Kurt wondered.

"Yea, sometimes."

"What's that like? Does it feel like a real memory, or is it different?"

She sat on the edge of the bed, her towel still wrapped around her body while rivulets of water dripped down her back from her hair. "It's sort of like pictures sometimes. Just a flash of something I've seen or felt. Other times it's more detailed. It's hard to explain. It's not quite as vivid as a recent memory. More like…a waking dream. Sometimes it's an actual dream that seems a bit too realistic. Or even like remembering a clip or preview from a movie."

"How do you know that it's not just a dream?"

"Often I'm not completely sure. Sometimes I'm able to confirm that one or two of the elements are real. It just feels different. So hard to explain."

"And you can try to trigger these memories?"

"I can try. It doesn't always work on command. Objects, noises, places. Any of my senses can trigger memories, other times the memories come…even when I don't want them to."

"Do you remember anything about yourself before Times Square?"

"A bit. I was angrier. Harsher. Probably a bit tougher. Definitely focused and goal driven…probably at any cost. I don't remember a lot of moments of happiness, but it wasn't all bad," she admitted. "Kurt, what's this all about? Did you have a memory?"

"Maybe," he answered. "It's a recurring dream I've had for a very long time. Well over ten years. Sometimes I recall pieces of it when I'm not asleep. Like the movie clip you were talking about."

"What happens in your dream?"

"You're in it, at least I think it's you. Since we met, I've always felt like I've known you before."

"Because you thought I was Taylor."

"It's not just that. There were things I saw you do that I never saw Taylor do, but they were still familiar. The way you handle yourself under attack, the way you clear a scene, the way you beat the hell out of someone. Even the way you used to wear your holster wrong. The way you feel. At one point I thought part of my physical attraction for you was because you reminded me of that fantasy, but maybe I had it backwards. Maybe the fantasy exists because of a latent memory of you."

"You think I'm the woman in your dream? It's possible, but—what are you doing?" she asked as he slid off the bed and took a spot on his knees in front of her.

"Trying something," he said, his palms covering her knees.

He wrapped his hands around her legs, his thumbs on her inner thighs as he started to move progressively higher. When he reached her hips, he pulled her body forward on the bed. Touching the bottom of the towel, he followed the edge with his fingertips, gently parting the cloth until he reached the top and yanked the piece that was tucked in to secure it around her. The towel tumbled to the bed as his hands roamed her body. Moving so that his torso was between her legs, his mouth found her breast, gently taking her nipple between his lips as his tongue swirled. She wiggled closer to him, her hands splayed on the back of his head and neck, encouraging him.

His open palm pressed at the top of her chest, pushing down her ribs between her breasts to her stomach, so that she'd take the hint and lie back. At first she reclined, feeling him kiss her stomach, the crease between her leg and hip, and eventually her inner thigh. As his kisses moved closer to her center, she sat up and tried to slide down against him. She reached for his shorts, ready to touch him, but he removed her hands and placed them under his on the bed. Still kneeling before her, he returned his mouth to her upper thigh. "Why do you always stop me?" he asked with his lips still against her skin.

"I just don't need you to do that," she said looking away.

"If this is about returning the favor, I don't expect anything. You don't have to."

"It's not that," she replied. "Why should I make you do that if I'm already completely satisfied? Besides, I can't even remember if I like it."

"I don't want to do it for you…I want to do it for me," he smirked desirously. "Now please…let me taste you."

"Alright," she answered hesitantly, and he didn't waste any time, worried that she'd change her mind again.

His beard scratched her thighs as they slowly fell open while he moved closer, his hands wrapped around her hips, fingers stretching to her ass. His tongue moved over her sex, eventually parting her as it slipped along her crevice. As soon as the tip of his tongue brushed her clit, her head went back and her body fell heavily onto the mattress. She moaned more loudly as he continued, beginning with light, scant touches. He dipped lower, his tongue pressing inside her as he used his hands to lift her sex to his face in a rhythmic motion.

Once he was certain that she was going to let him continue, he pulled back and asked, "You okay?"

She didn't even speak a clear word, mumbling something before she grabbed the back of his head and guided him back to her. She knew he was pleased with himself for unraveling her so easily, but she felt too good to worry about that. He let go of her hip with one hand, drawing his fingertips through her wetness before he slid a finger inside her. After a few pumps, he added another finger as he continued to make love to her with his lips and tongue. She was rocking her hips to meet him, whispering, pleading that he continue and never, ever stop.

He read her body, seeking the things that she wanted and adjusting as her wants changed. And she couldn't believe that this man had yet another hidden talent because he seemed to know exactly what she wanted before she did.

It was apparent that she was getting close, the pitch of her voice higher and the volume louder, like she'd forgotten to exercise any restraint for anyone who may hear. She moved her heel to his shoulder, digging in as the pleasure overcame her and her body was simply reacting to him; she could no longer control her responses. He saw her fingers grasping handfuls of the sheet, and felt her asking, no, insisting, that he continue, and her passion drove him completely wild. She started lifting off the bed, and he was nearly standing as he followed her, happily devoting his full attention to her needs.

Her body grew perfectly rigid as her sounds became completely silent for one long still moment, and then she prayed his name with adoring gratitude into the air before she collapsed. He gently kissed her sex, letting his tongue extend her orgasm for as long as possible and stopping just before it became too much. Her chest rose and fell roughly as her heart raced and lungs strained. She sighed, "Damn, you're amazing."

"I know," he answered, smiling at her. "I'm pretty sure you're the one who taught me."

Her head lifted up and she looked with disbelief, "Yea, okay."

"I'm serious. Not my first, but you're the one who taught me to do it well. That woman in my fantasy…so demanding. I love it."

"You really think that was me?"

"I do. That makes me wonder what other memories I might have locked away." She looked like she was worrying, so he flopped on the bed next to her, taking her arm and pulling her against him while he held her. Reassuringly he added, "How many guys are lucky enough to say their girlfriend is actually their greatest fantasy?"

"Is that what I am? Your girlfriend?"

He suddenly realized what he'd said and bristled slightly, "Well, I thought. I mean, it's up to you. I figured—"

"I like it," she replied. "It's just the first time I've heard you say it."

She hooked her leg over his, and felt his erection against her thigh, hard and straining next to her. "That really did turn you on?" she asked.

"I said it was for me," he answered, pulling her up so she was sitting on his abs. "Feel like another round…help a man out?"

Kissing her, he reached between them, trying to guide himself into her body. She put a hand on his chest and said with the rationality and clarity of a person who'd already had an orgasm, "I'd love to help you out…but we're getting reckless lately. We need to be more careful."

He tried to reach over his head to the nightstand to see if he had any condoms in the drawer, but before he got them, he felt her lips surround the tip of his erection before she took him as far into her mouth as she could. "Oh, my god," he groaned loudly as he felt her fingers stroke the parts of him she couldn't put in her mouth. "You don't have to," he said, the tone of his voice practically begging her not to stop.

"I want to," she answered, using both hands to stroke him with slow, long, firm movements. "Watch," she insisted.

He sat up, bracing on his elbows. Their eyes locked as she lowered her mouth, hot, wet, and soft, back down over his sex. He watched her move a few times, and she was in every way beautiful and arousing, but he wanted to feel this for a few moments before he lost control, and looking at her, doing this, was going to finish him off fast.

He lay down flat, closing his eyes. He wanted to thank her for slowing down a bit, licking and sucking him like she enjoyed it just as much as he'd enjoyed doing it to her, so she wanted it to last. He reached down, his hand caressing her cheek, his thumb brushing her face gently as she continued. "Holy fuck, Jane," he growled, lifting a bit off the bed but trying to avoid shoving himself into her mouth too roughly. Even in throes of passion, he never wanted to hurt her.

She picked up the pace, continuing to slide her lips along his length while her tongue laved and twirled, one hand pumping while the other hand cupped his sac, and all of the individual ways she touched him became one unified screaming sensation that rendered him incapable of any thought or action except to receive this gift she was giving him.

Fireworks flashed behind his eyes and his ears actually rang, every muscle tight, consumed by this feeling of a perfect blissful moment. Then his whole body jerked as the moment reached its absolute zenith, and then it all seemed to go black as a feeling of numb relaxation rushed in its place.

He thought he told her how incredible it was, but she chuckled and asked him what "dawuz craybell" meant.

He didn't care that he was a heavy, spent, mumbling mess. He could always be exactly who he was around her. "I said," he clarified, "'that was incredible.' Or at least that's what I tried to say."

* * *

— **Mid-February 2003-Secret US Military Training Camp somewhere in Eastern Europe** —

_The team was sent on an extraction mission. They were to remove a man and his young wife from a hostile prison. The soldiers weren't told why this man was important, or even the exact geographical location. They were told as little as possible, but they all knew he must have some very important information to warrant such a dangerous mission. It went off without a hitch, at first, and the team performed even better than expected. Just as they left the dark, dank prison, Connors was shot in the leg. Remy, without even a second thought, ran back, lifting his arm over her shoulder and helping him hobble out toward the rendezvous point. Weller saw the pair lagging when he realized Remy wasn't right behind him, and helped the couple who was recently rescued onto the helicopter before he ran back to assist Remy and Connors, who had almost caught up._

* * *

_Later that night, Weller saw her giving hell to a heavy bag in the gym. He found her there often, and had to admit to indulging in a hint of voyeurism from time to time. They'd known each other over a month, and he knew next to nothing about her except that she was a top-notch soldier and always, without fail, looked out for everyone on her team, even the ones who treated her terribly. She never shared a personal story or admitted to certain likes or dislikes. She was either working or training during any moment when she wasn't eating or sleeping. It was almost as if she didn't have any feelings or emotions beneath the surface.  
_

_He casually stepped up, holding the heavy bag still so it would be a firmer target for her to hit. She nodded, as if she appreciated it, but didn't say anything or slow her assault. Finally, when it seemed like anyone else would have been an exhausted mess on the ground, she stopped and said, "You want a turn?"_

" _No. I'm good," he said._

" _Alright," she replied, hanging her gloves and strolling over to a weight bench._

_He stood behind her to spot her while she began her first set of bench presses. The woman's body was truly amazing, but it was clear that her soul was tortured, and that just amplified his attraction for her. He knew it was inappropriate, as the leader of the squad, but he desperately wanted to make love to that woman. He wanted to be the one she trusted, the one she could confide in. He wanted to know her in every way. Plus, if she had sex with a quarter of the intensity with which she did everything else, he knew she would blow his mind._

_He tried not to stare down at her perfectly toned figure, reminding himself of the importance of their mission, before he said, "I'm cooking tonight. Gave the usual cook the night off."_

" _You are?" she questioned, skeptically, glancing at his face for just a second before looking back at the bar and weights hovering over her._

" _Yea. Celebrating a job well done."_

" _You don't look like a guy who can cook."_

" _What does a guy who can cook look like?"_

_She thought for a second and then retorted, seriously, "Not you."_

" _Growing up, if we wanted to eat, I had to cook," he admitted, saying one of the few personal things he'd ever mentioned to anyone in camp. "I'm actually pretty good at it. Not that we have the best ingredients."_

_She sat up, thinking for a moment, and then he worried that she thought he was suggesting some sort of date. Remy didn't seem to want personal complications, and he really wanted her to come, so he clarified, "It's for all the guys. You all did great out there today. You should be there. You saved Connors' life. If you can save that asshole, the rest of us know you have our backs. It's time to celebrate for a minute. Command gave us the day off tomorrow."_

_She walked over to a squat bar, securing the weight plates on the end and stepping in front of the mirror that was there so she could watch her form. He stepped up behind her to spot her, even though she hadn't asked him to. It was so hard not to look at her perfect ass each time she dropped down, and finally he had to sneak a glance at her for just a few reps. He thought he was being subtle until she said, "Your girl must love that."_

_He cleared his throat, finding his voice just a little hoarse because he thought she was going to chastise him for leering, "What?"_

" _Your girl must love having a man who can cook for her."_

_"Oh. That." He smirked softly, wondering if she was trying to figure out if he had a girlfriend back home. "What makes you think I have a girl?"_

" _Those letters you're always getting," she said casually as she put the weights down. "You get more letters than anyone else."_

" _From my sister."_

_Remy looked at him in the reflection for a moment and said, "Oh."_

" _We're close."_

_She dropped and started to do pushups, and said, "I'm going to run for an hour or two. Save me some of whatever you make and I'll grab it later."_

_Standing, she started to walk away when he grabbed her elbow, "Remy," he insisted, "let's talk for a minute."_

" _Did I do something wrong?" she sharply asked._

" _No. I mean—not really. Look…our squad, we are a family. The guys have asked you to have a drink, to get some grub, to play cards…you refuse everyone, every time. Bonding…that's part of what we do. It's part of the camaraderie."_

" _Are you ordering me to hang out with the squad?"_

" _No. I'm asking you to. Those men…they respect the hell out of you. They see how hard you work and how committed you are. They all saw how you saved Connors' life."_

" _They respect me?" she asked, flatly._

" _I_ _respect you," he assured. "If I had to pick one person to take into battle, it would be you. Without a doubt. But it's time you start acting like you're part of the squad, even off the field. We're a team. These guys depend on you, and you should depend on them. In a fight, we're the best friends you have."_

" _Okay," she replied, stretching her muscles a bit. She started walking to the door and added, "I'll shower and meet you at the mess hall."_

" _Actually, we're taking over the kitchen. Meet us there."_

_She walked away as he watched, and when she left the gym he argued aloud with himself, "Knock it off. These thoughts you're having about her…not a good idea. At. All."_

_Half of his brain was already following her into the showers. God, how he wanted to feel her soapy body next to his. He wanted to get through the stoic exterior and make her actually feel something. He wanted to see her expression when she came, maybe even make her smile when it was over. Or maybe she'd kill him…he wasn't entirely sure. He was still young enough to get turned on at the drop of a hat, and it felt like he was beating off to the thought of her a billion times a day…or at least once. It was hard to find any privacy in camp. He wouldn't have worried about it if the attraction was just physical. He was smart enough to know it was more.  
_

_Some of the men traveled to local towns to meet women or find prostitutes to work out their pent up energies. They were all young, healthy men far from home, so Weller didn't blame them. But that just wasn't his style, and it was actually forbidden by the local commanding officer since their location was supposed to remain secret._

" _Shut up," he chastised his thoughts as they went back to Remy. It felt like he was always thinking about her. This mission was important, and his role as leader was important, and he knew he needed her help because she was the best on the squad._

_He started walking to the kitchen, trying to refocus, and then finding his brain still wishing that he could make her really smile at least once. His biggest problem was that he actually liked her. Was this an intense crush, or something more? He admired her strength and loyalty and professionalism, but he truly wanted to know the woman behind the stoic mask. As much as he despised Connors, and knew that the man had been a complete asshole to Remy from the very moment she stepped foot at the camp, Weller liked her all the more when she ran back into the line of fire for someone like that._

_By the time he got to the kitchen, all of the other men were there except Connors, who was still being treated for his wound. They were perched on the stainless steel tables and counters, drinking, each with a whiskey or a strong local beer, most of them laughing. Weller marched right in, taking the glass of whiskey he was offered and downing it with one quick gulp._

_He started cooking, doing his best with the ingredients he had available. He was going to make homemade spaghetti and meatballs, and scratch made pizza. He'd actually mixed his own dough earlier, and started to cut it down into smaller portions and form them into individual crusts. As he finished, he glanced at the clock and decided that Remy had chosen to ignore his request. Just as he was planning to go get her and drag her to dinner, she came through the door._

_Typically, she went everywhere at camp in full uniform, but she had decided to show up in just a tee shirt, uniform pants, and the sneakers she usually reserved for long solo runs. Even her uniform hat was left behind. Her hair was down, and although it wasn't long, it looked so different hanging free instead of tightly pulled up or under the hat._

_Owens was the first to hand her a whiskey, and all of the men watched to see what she would do. In just a second, she gulped it down, slamming the glass to the table and pointing in it to ask for another. The men all seemed happy, congratulating her and each other on a mission well done._

_A few of the guys were helping Weller, cutting toppings or stirring the sauce he'd made. She spoke to a few of them, obviously letting the alcohol facilitate her social interactions, but she carefully timed her drinks to be certain she wouldn't have too much. Many of the guys were already pretty drunk, but she and Weller tried to be moderate. "You want help?" she asked him as the fun had taken away most of his assistants._

" _You could help make the spaghetti."_

" _How many boxes and where do they keep them?" she asked._

_He smiled, "Boxes? Once you eat my noodles, you will never go back to that crap."_

" _Your_ _noodles?" she asked, wrinkling her nose a little._

" _Fresh," he answered._

_He dumped a pile of flour in front of her, and then instructed her to crack eggs into the center._

" _I'm not much of a cook," she replied._

" _It's not hard," he answered, giving her instructions for the rest of the mixing._

_They didn't have a pasta roller so they rolled it by hand, and he watched while Remy manually cut each roll of noodles like she was performing surgery._

" _These are perfect," he answered as he strung up the strands to dry them a bit before cooking._

" _I had a good teacher," she answered, with what was, by far, the friendliest and kindest thing she'd ever said. She even smiled faintly for a second before she corrected that behavior._

" _Bottle is empty," Ruiz said, holding the glass whiskey bottle upside down to demonstrate the thoroughness of the situation. Everyone liked Ruiz. He worked hard, but always managed to smile and lend a hand._

" _I'll grab some," Remy offered, walking out of the kitchen and into the cold to fetch a bottle from the bar that had been set up for them in the next building._

" _We're out of beer, too," Ruiz added after she left._

_The men started to rock-paper-scissors to figure out who would grab the replacement case, but Weller wiped his hands on a towel and said, "By the time you idiots figure out who's going to get it, I could already be there and back. Stir the sauce while I'm gone."_

_When he went into the bar, he saw Remy staring at boxes of liquor. "You alright?" he asked when he saw her._

" _I couldn't remember which one we were drinking," she answered. "Do you know?"_

_He stepped up behind her, close enough to be able to sense the warmth of her, but not close enough to actually touch. "That one," he said, pointing over her shoulder. "Not that it really matters. As long as it burns going down, they'll be happy."_

_She grabbed two bottles and turned, finding him still standing in the same spot. "Did you need something, sir?"_

" _Don't 'sir' me…seriously, how many times are you going to make me say that? And yea, I need something. I came over to grab another case of beer."_

" _Oh," she answered, softly._

_He grabbed a case of beer from the cooler and replied, "Ready?"_

" _Can I say something before we go back?" she asked._

_He put the case of beer down on the table they were using as a bar and replied, "You can say anything you want."_

_Trying to remain calm and collected because he knew nothing could happen between them, some part of him wished she was going to step forward, drop the whiskey bottles she was carrying on the floor, wrap her arms around him and kiss him. Remy seemed too controlled and too rational to ever do anything like that.  
_

_She put her whiskey bottles next to his case, wiping her hands against each other in mid-air to dust off little specks of flour and pasta that still clung to her skin. Summoning something that seemed to be courage, she said, "I'd like to thank you, sss-Wel-Kurt."_

" _For what?"_

" _You've always treated me like an equal. From my first day."_

" _You are an equal. If anything, you're a bit more equal than some of them," he half-joked.  
_

" _Still, ss-Kurt," she corrected again, "I appreciate it."_

" _Can I ask you a question?" he asked._

" _Okay," she replied, gulping a little._

" _You were the first one to go back for Connors. You actually managed to get to him before the men who were closest, or even his partner, even with all of that hostile fire. Why?"_

" _Isn't that my job?"_

" _Sure it is," he said, stepping a little closer to whisper, "but you could have easily left it to the people closer to him and kept a clear conscience. And Connors is such an asshole."_

_She actually chuckled, and that made him feel a tingle of excitement that was so unfamiliar. It was weird how intimate a quiet laugh could be._

" _He is an asshole, that's for sure," she finally replied, "but he's out there, trying to do things that normal people aren't willing to even know about, much less actually do. He didn't deserve to die while serving his country, not if I could stop it."_

_He nodded. "If we had an army full of people like you—"_

" _You need help?" Ruiz asked as he popped in._

" _Got it right here," Remy replied, grabbing the whiskey and heading back to the kitchen, almost like she needed to get the hell out of there._

_Normally Weller liked Ruiz, but he was definitely annoyed that his conversation with Remy had been cut short. He would have happily stayed there with her for hours._

_He followed shortly after, and he finished the sauce while Remy and Ruiz put toppings on the pizza and threw them in the ovens. The others were still talking, and finally Owens said, "Ruiz, as the senior citizen of this group, could you get us a discount the next time we're in town?"_

" _Fuck off," Ruiz answered. "And, for the record, I'm 29. Hardly a senior citizen. I'm just older, and wiser, than the rest of you morons."_

" _You look a hell of a lot older," Owens teased, clearly drunk._

" _You look like you're still in diapers," Ruiz countered._

" _I'm not the youngest. She probably is." Owens asked Remy, "Right? How old are you?"_

" _Eighteen," she answered. "Well, almost nineteen."_

" _What?" Ruiz asked, shocked. "You are this well trained and you're only eighteen?"_

" _I started early," she replied awkwardly, like she wished she had lied or not answered at all._

" _How early?" someone else shouted._

" _Seven," she answered, at first seriously, and then playing it off like a joke. "You jealous, Ruiz?" she poked._

_Weller didn't think it was a joke though. Perhaps there was some truth in what she'd said, because that would explain an awful lot about her and why she was so closed off from everyone else. Children trained for battle often saw things their young minds couldn't process, and it tended to have a lasting emotional impact.  
_

_They started to serve the food, and then the kitchen door opened and Connors came in, leaning on an IV pole fitted with morphine. He stumbled into the room, pushing away a few of the guys who tried to help him to a chair. He went directly to Remy and said, "Let me get this out of the way. Thanks for saving my ass."_

" _It's nothing," she answered._

" _No, it's something. I owe you one," he said with a look of sincerity. Everyone was looking at Connors, surprised by his relatively good behavior. He seemed uncomfortable with this and said to Remy, with a grin, "If you want, I could throw you a pity fuck…you know, to say thanks to a lonely girl. Or maybe you could throw me a pity fuck…instead of a get well card."_

_She started to scowl, and his free hand moved protectively over his groin. "What an enticing offer," she replied with dry sarcasm, "but I'll pass…today and every day from now until the end of time."_

" _Your loss," he answered grinning and jabbing her arm as his way of letting her know he was teasing. Then he motioned to one of his buddies for some help and he flopped into a chair and said to Weller, "Can I get some of this grub? Smells fucking amazing in here, brother."_

_The squad sat up drinking, eating, and hitting Connors' morphine button when he'd get annoying, until well into the night. Shortly before dawn, Connors' went back to medical while the rest of the group returned to the barracks. Weller was stripping down to his shorts and tee shirt, since he slept that way every night, when Remy walked by. "Hey," she said, bopping his upper arm with the side of her fist, "You actually are a good cook. Thanks for making me go."_

" _I didn't make you," he argued, but he knew she wouldn't have gone without his prodding._

" _Night," she replied, with a little half smile and nod before she went over to her bunk._

_He was staring at the bottom of the empty bunk above his, waiting for sleep. His bunk was the lower, and hers, in the bed next to his, was the upper. He glanced over for some reason, and saw her lying on her side near the edge of her bed, facing him. When he looked, she quickly closed her eyes. Or maybe it was just a trick his mind played on him in the dark.  
_

_He spent the last few minutes before sleep won out wishing he could read her mind. It seemed highly unlikely, but maybe, just maybe, she felt something for him too._


	10. Cold

Kurt and Jane had been traveling for days. They checked several more locations from Hark's list. There were a few places engaged in illegal trade, but nothing that jogged any of Jane's memories or involved children. If there was no evidence of abuse, they moved on to the next site, relaying the findings to Hark so he could inform local authorities if he saw fit. Kurt knew it was best to avoid making unnecessary enemies whenever possible because they had no legal authority there.

Kurt called his sister to check in, and both she and Sawyer were thrilled to talk to him. He and Jane listened to his nephew as he excitedly talked about his new school and friends, and it was a relief to know the boy was adapting. It was clear, though, that he greatly missed his uncle.

Once Sarah was on the phone, he talked to her, avoiding the subject of Jane because he didn't want his sister to be interrogated if news should get out. "Are you alright?" she asked after she finished updating him on the news in her life.

"I'm good," he replied.

"Why did you really call?"

"I can't call to check in?"

"Of course you can. I wish you would more often. But I have a feeling there's another reason for this chat."

"Do you remember anything strange about me during my early twenties? Weird behavior, something I said that seemed out of place or maybe I was out of touch?" he asked.

"You were deployed most of the time, so you were usually out of touch."

"Anything else? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Well…I mean…no."

"You hesitated," he accused.

"There was that girl."

"What girl?"

"Is this some kind of joke?" she asked, worriedly. "Are you in trouble?"

"No," he argued, "I'm really fine. Why would you think it's a joke?"

"The last time I mentioned her, right after your last deployment, you acted like you had no idea what I was talking about."

"I did?"

"It was before Sawyer. You were gone for a while, probably your longest stretch away from home."

"How long?"

"I don't know. At least a year, probably a little longer. It all blends together. I'm sure I have some of your old letters and emails around here somewhere."

"Can you find them?"

"I'll look," she replied.

"Tell me what you remember."

"You had a thing with some woman you were serving with. It sounded really serious."

"You remember a name?"

"God, Kurt, I don't know. You don't remember her name? You were like…completely in to her. That was the first girl you dated that I thought you might marry. How is it possible you don't remember her name?"

"It's complicated," he answered, disappointedly. "Anything else? Did I tell you anything about what happened to her?"

"When you finally came home, I asked about her and you said you had no idea what I was talking about. You got really angry, so I assumed you broke up and didn't want to talk about it. That's kinda the way you handle things. What is this all about?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I'm going to find out. Is there anything else you remember about her? Her family, her background. Anything?"

"Are you trying to find her?"

"Sort of," he replied.

"Oh my god. Is my big brother still in love after all these years?" she excitedly asked. "I would love to see you settle down. Sawyer needs cousins to play with at Christmas."

"Like I said, it's complicated. Anything you can remember would be great."

"There was something weird…she was from somewhere in South Africa…near Johannesburg, I think."

"Are you sure?" he questioned, interestedly.

"I think. It was so long ago, but it stuck out. I remember thinking it was strange that she was in the American Armed Forces but was born in another country. I wondered why she moved so far from home, but I never got to ask."

"Thanks, Sarah. That's helpful."

"Don't be a stranger," she demanded.

"I won't. We'll talk soon."

He hung up, and grabbed Hark's list of places for them to visit. He looked at Jane and said, "Change of plans. We need to mark this list for all of the places in or around Johannesburg."

* * *

On the way to Johannesburg, they stayed in a cramped little hotel room where there was barely enough room to walk around the bed. Kurt had fallen asleep, and Jane was snuggled next to him. At least the air conditioning worked at this place. He'd been dreaming restlessly since his talk with his sister, and Jane was starting to wonder if she should wake him up.

He mumbled in his sleep and then something made his body jerk as he woke. His eyes were wide and he looked terrified. "Remy!" he shouted, arguing with whatever terrible vision had entered his brain.

"Who's Remy?" Jane asked.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, sitting up and adding, "I think you are."

"Are you sure? Maybe it was just a dream, Kurt," she said, rubbing his back.

"Maybe," he said with disbelief, "but it felt pretty real to me. We were working special ops together and it sure as hell wasn't Afghanistan or any other place I was supposed to be stationed. They were trying to kill you. I heard myself call you Remy." He got up, darting naked around the tiny room to get his bag.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's go," he said with the excitement of an investigator who'd found a long awaited lead. "Jane, we didn't just know each other in the past. We were really in love. I could feel it. Something or someone took you away from me and stole my memories of you. I want to know who took you from me and robbed us of all of those years we could have had together. I want to know what happened. We have a name and a location. That's a hell of a lot more than we had yesterday."

* * *

— **March 2003-Secret US Military Training Camp somewhere in Eastern Europe** —

_Remy and Kurt became friends, to say the least. They spent the majority of their free time together, and most of their working hours, too. They often trained and ate together, and when the squad ran missions, he almost always selected her to pair off with him. Most of the men were out one afternoon, all claiming to be "training" when they were probably going to a nearby town for recreation. She saw that he'd received a letter, and brought it to him in the barracks._

_Tossing it on his chest, she sat at the end of his bunk and said, "Doesn't your sister have any other friends?"_

" _You know how it is…once you've met me, all other friends seem like a waste of time," he joked._

" _You're ridiculous," she chuckled. He seemed to be able to make her smile more and more. Although she was still extraordinarily guarded, when they were alone, she seemed to drop her defenses a little._

_He watched her take a note out of her pocket and unfold it. "So…your boyfriend finally misses you enough to write?"_

_She smirked, knowing that he was fishing for personal information. "Do you honestly think a woman like me would have a boyfriend waiting at home?"_

" _Why wouldn't you? What does that mean, a 'woman like you'?" he asked, a little startled._

" _I'm…me. You know how it is. Almost everyone here is just a genetic predisposition away from being a sociopath. I mean, we're not sociopaths, but we've been fucked over, worn down and beaten enough that we're as close to emotionless as they can safely have us. We're all damaged. Ruiz saw his girlfriend tortured and killed. Owens' parents and sister were murdered when he was a kid, Johnson was held in captivity for three years. Everyone here has a reason to fight, and has seen enough to already be a little dead inside. They picked a specific type of person. What about you? Why do you belong here?"_

_They'd talked about things often, but carefully avoided anything really personal. Before answering her question, he challenged her to answer his, "You first. Who's the letter from?"_

_She pondered for just a second, skimming the note. Finally she answered, "My mother."_

" _So you're not a cyborg?"_

" _To settle the bet some of the guys have going, I am actually a real human being," she joked back. Turning more serious, she asked, "So…what's your story? What messed you up enough to be one of our group?"_

" _I lost a friend. Someone I was supposed to be responsible for. I was a kid, but old enough that I should have been able to look out for her. I failed."_

" _What happened to her?" Remy pressed, showing a clear interest in whatever had made him into the man he was._

_For a moment, he thought about forcing her to answer a question, but it actually felt good to talk to someone. He wanted this friendship, or whatever it was, to be personal, and he guessed he'd have to earn her trust first. "Officially, she's missing, now presumed dead. I think my father killed her…I'm pretty much positive that he killed her. Maybe he did more than just kill her, I don't know. There's this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I think about it. There was never proof, and he got away with it. I hate him for it. It destroyed my family."_

" _Oh god," she said sincerely. "Kurt, I'm sorry. Did the cops suspect you?"_

" _If they did, it wasn't for long. I was really destroyed. The cops, hell everyone, told me I was just a kid, and I shouldn't be too hard on myself but—"_

" _You still felt responsible. I get that," she answered._

_He wasn't crying, but stared ahead at the end of the bed just past her, and he was sure she knew how much this still hurt. He didn't want to play this game of discovery anymore, because opening his old wounds hurt too much. "You want to go a few rounds in the gym or take a run?" he asked, changing the subject, hoping that conditioning would numb the pain._

_He stood and stretched, ready to go. "I could use a good fight," she answered, and he didn't argue. As she was lacing up her shoes, she said, completely unprovoked, "I was born in South Africa...in Jozi. My mother was born wealthy, lived in a really nice suburb. My father was born in a neighboring division everyone called 'Gomorrah' because of the living conditions. Mom began researching the inequities of her country, learned about Apartheid, and she was enraged. They met when they both joined the same anti-Apartheid group. They were murdered for trying to bring freedom and equality to the oppressed. The letter was actually from the woman who raised my brother and me. She adopted us. I understand that feeling of responsibility. I've always felt responsible for my little brother, even though I was just a kid too, it was my job to help him survive. No matter how hard I tried, he still went through hell. People like you and me…we take that shit very seriously."_

_Kurt nodded, trying not to appear shocked, because she never shared anything personal if she could avoid it, but suddenly she cracked open an entire chunk of her past and laid it before him. It felt like she was really starting to trust him. "Why'd you tell me that?" he wondered._

" _Because you need to feel like someone understands you," she answered, putting her hand on his shoulder._

_She was always so distant, but he could feel how much she cared when she dropped that barrier even a little. He actually felt a stab of pain in his chest at all of the buried memories._

" _I also believe," she added, "that you won't tell anyone anything I tell you. I'm counting on it."_

_He looked at her, his eyes heavy and soulful, and he said, "You can trust me. Anything between us stays between us. I swear."_

_They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. Kurt wanted to hold her, to touch her for a moment and disappear from the pain of the world. Then, she suddenly jabbed him in the stomach and said, with a playful smile, "Last one to the gym makes dinner…better hope I win."_

_She ran off, and he wasn't far behind. He ran into the gym, didn't see her in the ring, and immediately realized she must have been hiding. "Remy?" he called out._

_He carefully surveyed the room, knowing this game of hide and seek could leave bruises. He loved sparring and training with her. They'd punch, kick, and wrestle. He loved the closeness of it. And it had become almost playful. She dropped from somewhere above, her eyes alive with an excitement that told him she enjoyed it just as much as he did. She slammed her arm against his chest and knocked him down to the ground._

_He hopped up and they traded a few punches and kicks, each blocking the other. They were getting really good at reading each other's next move. Their fight went on for a long time, and in spite of their tiredness, they were smiling. But she caught him off guard, knocking him to the ground yet again._

_She started to gloat, until he grabbed her arm and yanked her down on the floor with him. She was always so quick, which evened out his advantage of strength, and in a second she had his arm pulled behind him. "Fuck, my arm," he yelled out in pain._

_She immediately let go, the worry evident on her face even though he'd expected her to chastise him for his weakness. Leaning down, looking in his eyes, she said, "I'm sorry. I got carried away."_

_One moment he was holding his shoulder, his eyebrow furrowed with pain, and the next, completely taking her off guard, he tossed her to the side and pinned her to the ground. He was over her, his hands tightly holding her wrists above her head. "Aww…That's so cute that you were worried about me," he teased. "Better be careful, Remy, I might start to think you don't hate me as much as you hate everyone else."_

" _You bastard," she chuckled. "Of course you'd have to cheat to beat me."_

" _You were really worried," he jabbed, "admit it!"_

" _Never!" she countered._

_He was consumed by her beauty, seeing the true smile on her face and hearing her unwilling but honest laugh. His hands moved on their own accord, without the consent of his conscious mind. Leaving her wrists, they moved up to her palms. Her fingers threaded through his, a fact that he didn't realize until her fingertips started tracing gentle lines on his skin._

_Her laughter faded as his weight became heavier on her. Their chests both heaved since they were out of breath from laughter and their fight. His thumb started to brush her palm and the side of her hand, and the way she looked into his eyes made his heart squeeze tightly. She lifted her head from the mat, and anticipation shot a jolt of electricity to his groin. He was all too aware of the fact that her hips were against his, their bodies warmer from their exertion, and he knew that if they remained in this position, his desire for her would become perfectly evident. He thought he should pull away, but couldn't seem to make his body move._

_She shifted under him, pulling up, but the effect was friction that did nothing to ease the pressure that was building below his belt. Her legs moved against his as she leaned ever so slightly closer, and he thought she might actually kiss him. Brushing his nose against hers in invitation, he paused to allow her to make the choice._

_He'd dreamed of this, imagined it, wanted her more than he'd wanted any woman, and when she finally caressed his lip between hers, it felt like an explosion of simultaneous joy and desire. He didn't worry that the other soldiers may return, or that they might be caught there on the floor, even though any rational person would have considered that possibility. It seemed somehow fitting that they were going to let go of their inhibitions right there on the floor where they'd playfully brawled so many times. He couldn't believe it was actually happening._

_Then his exhilaration plummeted like an elevator cut from its cables as she somehow turned him on his side and slipped out of the embrace. "Dammit," she yelled, chiding herself, her fingers pulling her hair back from her face, "Sorry. I'm going to take a run."_

_She climbed through the ropes and ran out of the gym. The turn of events left him feeling whiplashed and deflated as he sat up and scratched the back of his head. The only thing he knew for certain was that he had to go after her, even if it did hurt his pride._

_Grateful for the muddy turf, he could see which direction she'd taken. It was so damn cold, it felt like this place was always cold, and that made him miss the warmth he'd felt with her even more. He ran so fast, like his life depended on it, taking off through the woods, racing the setting sun._

_She was a fast runner, but fortunately she hadn't been running at her fastest pace. He caught up, cutting in front of her and jogging backward for a few paces._

" _Stop," he said, firmly. Then he reminded himself that he was chasing after her as an ordinary man, not as the squad sergeant she had to answer to, and rephrased, "Come on. Please."_

_She slowed, pacing at a walking speed, hands on her hips. "What?" she impatiently asked._

" _Why'd you run off? If you wanted to stop you could have just said so."_

" _I think I did say so."_

" _You're completely overreacting," he argued._

" _I think you're overreacting. I said I wanted to take a run, and you're behaving as if that's some kind of crime."_

" _Oh, come on. Are you going to pretend that something didn't almost happen back there?"_

" _What didn't almost happen?" she argued, glowering._

_He shook his head, trying to put words to his frustration. "You know what? Forget it. If you want to ignore it, that's fine. I'm going back to the barracks."_

_He started to jog back, feeling the cold of her stare through to his bones. "Weller," she shouted after him._

_His stride slowed, and he shouted without turning to face her, "What is it, Remy?"_

" _You're my friend," she said, rounding in front of him._

" _And that's a bad thing?"_

" _I've had a really strange life, Kurt. The only other friend I've had is my brother. I think you're my first real friend. You're my best friend. I'm used to fighting everyone who isn't my family."_

_His posture softened as he stepped closer, "What happened to you after your parents were killed?"_

_She looked away, "I can't talk about that."_

" _You said I'm your best friend, but you don't trust me?"_

" _It's not that."_

" _Then what is it, Remy?" he yelled. "I'm here. Nothing you could say would stop me from caring about you."_

" _I'm not sure about that."_

" _Well I am," he argued. "Why can't you trust me off the field like you trust me on the field?" Waiting for her, and seeing that she was still hesitating, he seemed to give up. "When you're ready to actually trust me, if you ever are, let me know. I'll be here."_

_He started walking back and she shouted, "We were taken to a training camp and groomed to be soldiers and spies. There were lots of children there. They pitted us against each other, made us do cruel, unspeakable shit. They tried to beat, twist and torment every ounce of humanity from us."_

_Coming back slowly, he nodded, proving that he'd listen._

" _I don't like talking about it," she explained._

" _Thank you for trusting me," he replied taking her forearm in his hand._

" _I don't think you get it. I'm seriously screwed up. I learned to kill while most kids were learning to ride a bike. Deep down you're a good guy. You could still have a good life if you make it out of here alive. I'm emotionally comatose." He tried to hug her and she backed away, adamantly shaking her head, "I can't."_

" _You can't let me hug you?"_

" _I can't…risk getting close to anyone. It could cloud my judgment and—"_

" _You can't say that," he interrupted. "You can't say one minute that you're 'emotionally comatose' and the next minute say that being close to me might cloud your judgement. Which is it, Remy, because you can't have it both ways."_

_She stared into his eyes, her face betraying her hidden sorrow, and said, "The difference between comatose and dead…is that comatose people sometimes wake up."_

" _You don't want to be brought out of that coma?"_

_She shook her head, "Honestly, I'm not sure what I'd do if I had to feel again."_

" _You're lying to yourself," he said, stepping very close but not touching her, "if you think you don't feel something."_

_He could see her gulp and then she said, "I—we should get back to camp. It's getting dark."_

" _You can count on me," he said, refusing to let it drop. "You can talk to me. I've been to some dark places. I won't judge you."_

" _I know you think you mean that."_

" _No." He touched her chin, gently lifting her gaze to capture her attention. "I do mean that. You just need to give me a chance."_

_They jogged back to camp and he went to the shower shortly after she'd left it. He desperately wanted the water to be hot, nearly scalding, but it was tepid at best, just as it was almost every day. The water was an annoying reminder of how frustrating his life was. And now he figured she'd probably pull away, and he was about to lose even the friendship they'd built. He felt he barely had a moment of privacy in that place, but it was about to feel very lonely anyway._

_He wrapped a towel around his waist and left the shower for the bench where he'd left his clean clothes. When he walked out, he saw Remy leaning over the bench, and he asked, "What are you doing?"_

_She turned quickly, holding up a folded scrap of paper that she was going to leave on his clothing. At first his head swam with unhappiness as he suspected she was leaving a note before running off. "What is that?" he asked, stepping closer and taking it from her hand._

_Opening it, he saw a simple message that said 'Kitchen', and he felt relieved. When he looked up from the note, he saw Remy studying his bare, dripping chest and torso, and he was never so pleased that he'd been spending so much time training. "Umm," she cleared her throat, "I…I owe you an apology. You were trying to be a friend, and—uhh…I'm not good at this stuff. Anyway, I'm making dinner. If you feel like it."_

" _Sure," he nodded his head. "Give me five and I'll be over."_

_Before she turned to walk away, she paused and said, "Just so we're clear, this can't be complicated," she pointed back and forth between them. "But I want to trust you…on and off the field. I will try. Okay?"_

" _Sure. Got it," he answered. "Uncomplicated."_

" _Good," she replied as if they'd actually accomplished something._

_After she left, he repeated her words aloud to himself, "'Just so we're clear'?" He shook his head and added, "If anything I'm more confused."_

_Of course he wasn't going to fight it. He didn't want to lose her, and he was willing to walk a tightrope to stay by her side._

_When he arrived in the kitchen, Remy was obviously trying to make the noodles that he'd shown her a few weeks earlier. She had somehow scattered flour all around the table and floor around her. She was focused on her task, but when he entered, she turned and said, "Sit down. I think I've got this."_

_A trail of flour was painted across her shirt and one side of her face. He sat on the counter near her and picked up a completely decimated bag that had once contained flour, studying the remains. "Looks good," he commented, pointing at her dough. "But for future reference, you don't need to use C-4 to open a bag of flour."_

_She darted a look at him, and then, seeing him grinning, she retorted, "You're such an ass, Weller."_

" _It's all part of my charm," he added, realizing as she tried to wipe the flour from her face with the back of her sleeve that he was, for the first time in his life, completely in love._


	11. Accidental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-I had to make most of this chapter flashback because it got kind of long. Thanks, as always, for making this so fun!
> 
> This is an M-rated chapter.

It didn’t take Jane and Kurt long to get to Johannesburg, but once they were there, finding further leads was certainly complicated. Jozi, as some of the residents called it, was a huge city, with many suburbs and divisions, with buildings ranging from makeshift hovels to grand mansions and skyscraping hotels and everything else in between.

After checking a few places on Hark’s list, they decided to go from division to division, hoping to see something that might jog Jane’s memory.

Sitting in a restaurant, Jane started to daydream while she waited for Kurt to return to the table. A bright light caught her eye when a beam from the sun was reflected off a glass door, and suddenly Jane had a sharp vision.

Staring up into an almost blinding light, she was in a room walled off by plastic tarps and bare wood walls. Monitors beeped and whirred behind her, and when she tried to move, she was strapped down to a cold metal gurney. She realized, suddenly, that there were two sets of beeping monitors. Lifting her head, she looked to her left and saw a man on the gurney next to her.

He faced her, and she immediately recognized Kurt. He was younger, slimmer, and had just a shadow of a beard, so much like in the old picture Rich had sent them. His eyes spoke volumes about the terror he felt. He whispered, “We don’t have much time. She’s coming back!”

Jane remembered herself trying to speak, but feeling far too disoriented.

“Promise me,” he whispered as steps echoed down the hall, coming steadily closer, “promise you won’t forget me. I will never forget you, no matter what they do.”

A figure approached wearing surgical gear, and tapped something into a computer, carefully watching the monitor. Jane remembered a sharp stab of pain that seemed to emanate from her lower back, and a hideous cramping sensation that was enough to make even her cry out in pain. Kurt was next to her, angrily threatening, "If you hurt her, I will hunt you down and I _will_ kill you." A second person in surgical gear, face covered with a mask, appeared. The only identifying trait that was visible was a single spiral of straw-colored hair that poked out disobediently from the covering. The two began to wheel her down the hall.

As the doors shut behind them, Jane heard Kurt shout, “I love you, Remy. I won’t forget.”

A few memories and slips of words flew through her head as it felt like she was yanked through visions of the past before she came back to her present moment.

“You okay?” he asked as he sat down next to her in the restaurant. When he saw the pale look on her face, he asked, “A memory?”

“Yea. I think—I think I remember when they took our memories,” she said, filling him in on the details and hoping that he’d be able to recall other elements of the story.

“It’ll come back,” he replied, putting his hand over hers on the table. “It’s slow, but between the two of us, we’ll put the pieces back together.”

“It was weird, though. I remember this horrible pain. And then feeling like I was pulled back through time. I could see us together when we were younger. Just bits and pieces. You were there. I could hear our voices. I swear I could hear myself saying something about Jozi…and then a place called Gomorrah. Does that ring any bells?”

He looked at a map on his phone and shrugged, “Sounds more like local slang or a town nickname. We can ask around.”

* * *

 

**—Late** **March 2003-Secret US Military Training Camp somewhere in Eastern Europe** —

_The squad was running missions at least once a week, flying across the world, always largely in the dark about their activities except for the things they really needed to know to perform their duties. Kurt always picked Remy to partner with him, both because she was the one he trusted most, and because he wanted to protect her as well. The days of training and fighting started to run together, and the toll of constant work and stress was obvious in the soldiers’ demeanor._

_One day they were called one by one to the medic. Each of them received shots and an implant in their upper arm. Weller had been busy in a meeting with McKinley, and when he went for his appointment, he asked what they were being given. “Boosters,” the medic answered as he prepped the shots._

_“I should be all up to date. What exactly are these shots for this time?” Weller insisted. The squad seemed to require far more vaccinations and tests than any unit he’d ever been part of before._

_The medic stared with dead eyes and answered, “Disease prevention.”_

_Kurt took the boosters, but when the medic pulled out a strange apparatus, Kurt stepped back, “What’s that? That’s not a booster.”_

_“Your commanding officer has ordered that each of you receive an implant.”_

_“Implant for what?”_

_The medic called McKinley, who promptly joined them. “You have questions, Sergeant Weller?”_

_As the medic stepped out, Kurt asked, “What is this implant for? You gave them to my whole squad?”_

_“It’s for your benefit as well as ours. It’s a hormone regulator.”_

_“Why do we need that?”_

_“It serves many purposes. It has come to my attention that several of the men have been regularly seeing local women.”_

_“They work hard. They deserve a leave now and again.”_

_“I don’t deny that. But our presence here is supposed to be a secret, and I don’t want angry families showing up at my door demanding support for children conceived from these ‘leaves’. It also helps control hormone levels in times of stress. If we can control adrenaline bursts, we can make you all better soldiers. And, between us, we’re seeing more depression and other issues with the squad, and this can help.”_

_“I’ve never heard of implanted birth control for men.”_

_“Relax, Sergeant. I suspect it will be approved by the FDA any day now. And that’s just one benefit of many. Don’t be so myopic. Do you really think I’d do anything to hurt my men?”_

_“I think I’d like to decline the implant,” Kurt said, wondering if Remy had already visited the medic._

_McKinley sneered spitefully, “Apparently you’ve forgotten your place here. You weren’t brought here to think. You were brought here to take orders. This isn’t negotiable, soldier. It is required. Do you wish to remain with the squad?”_

_“Yes, of course, sir.”_

_“Then you will allow the medic to implant this regulator. It’s for your own good. You have two choices, receive the implant now, or I will personally escort you from the camp immediately and you will cease all contact with the squad.”_

_Weller knew the implications. Connors would take over. Remy would be there alone. He wondered if he’d ever find her again, or if she’d ever know why he’d left. “Fine,” Kurt agreed, fully intending on removing the object as soon as possible._

_McKinley called in the medic, and stood watch while Kurt received the implant._

_“I’d like you to check on Sgt. Weller’s implant at least once a week,” McKinley instructed the medic. “I certainly don’t want him to get a nasty infection. Of course if it should happen to fall out, measures will have to be taken.”_

_“Yessir,” the medic answered._

_The mood in the barracks varied. Some weren't worried about the implant. Most were concerned. Kurt and Remy had both argued against the implants, but ultimately both elected to get them. They didn’t admit that they’d each accepted the implant because they were threatened with immediate expulsion and didn't want to lose contact with each other._

_They took a run together, far away from prying ears, to discuss their plans._

_“Have you ever used anything like this before?” he asked her. “Like Norplant or something like that?”_

_“Me? No. I’ve never even taken the pill,” she replied.  
_

_“Never?” he asked. “So what do you use? Rubbers?”_

_“Nothing,” she answered as she ran._

_“Kinda dangerous, isn’t it?”_

_“Not really,” she dully replied._

_“Yea it is. Do you have any idea the things you can catch? Not to mention unwanted—“_

_“There is one definite way to avoid all of those complications,” she interrupted.  
_

_“Yea, but who in the hell can—,“ he stopped running, and waited for her to notice. “Are you saying you’ve never…_ you know _?”_

 _“Yes, Kurt,” she replied with irritation. “Not that it’s your business. But I’ve never ‘_ you know _’. And don’t tell anyone else that.”_

_“I never tell anyone anything…except you. You know that.”_

_“Good.”_

_“I just don’t get how it’s possible.”_

_“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, confrontationally._

_“Well you’re…hot. You have a perfect body, gorgeous eyes, a beaut—,“ he caught himself and stopped dead. He was embarrassed by his compliments, so he halted, adding more seriously, “Well…I’m just saying that I’m sure you had plenty of options.”_

_“Look,” she said, requiring much less pulling from him to answer personal questions than she used to before they'd become so close, “when we were kids in the training camp, the orphanage…I fought hard every day to make sure I didn’t get raped by any of those older boys. And let me tell you, that was no easy task, but I succeeded. Once we moved with Shepherd, it got better, but I wasn’t good with people. Never met a guy I trusted enough to be that close with. Like I've told you before, I’m really screwed up.”_

_“You’re not screwed up. It makes sense,” he said understandingly. “Trying to protect yourself day after day could definitely take the fun out of it. Did you ever have a boyfriend?”_

_“Nope,” she answered, becoming frustrated with this line of questioning since it made her feel like even more of a human anomaly than she usually did. “I think I need to get a message to Shepherd, about these implants,” Remy said, changing the subject. “She might be able to tell us more. She recently retired, but that woman always seems to know what’s going on.”_

_“Wait…Shepherd? You know her?” Kurt asked._

_“Of course. She’s the woman who adopted me.”_

_“You call her ‘Shepherd’?”_

_“Everyone does. How do you know her?”_

_“She was my commanding officer, briefly. She actually recommended me for squad sergeant. I think she’s the reason I was selected.”_

_“That’s weird,” Remy said, thinking for a moment. “Well, I need to get a message to her. Obviously we want to keep this quiet. I have a drop location in case I need her.”_

_They began their return run to camp, and after a mile or so of silence, she commented, “You’ve probably had a few girlfriends, hunh?”_

_“A few,” he answered._

_“Anyone serious…a fiancée or wife?”_

_“Oh hell no,” he answered as he ran, “I’m way too choosy.”_

* * *

 

_When they returned from their run, Connors walked straight up to Remy and said, “Look, Weller’s pet came back home. So did you two go test out those new contraceptive devices? You were gone an awful long time.” She ignored him, like she often did, but he continued. “I’ll be honest, I can’t really figure out who’s the top in that situation. Sometimes the toughest guys are the ones who want some bitch to tie them up and order them around…if you know what I mean.”_

_All of the other men in her squad liked and respected her, but Connors refused to stop being an ass. In fact, in recent days, he was becoming angrier and more irrational with everyone, provoking fights and reacting with rage over relatively inconsequential events._

_Remy was about to lose her cool, but Weller, who came in just in time to see Connors leering over Remy, was beyond furious at what he saw.  Connors looked like he was about to slap Remy’s ass, but Weller grabbed the younger man’s hand before he could touch her. Weller squeezed his fist and watched Connors drop to his knees, fearing the finger Weller held was about to be broken. “Apologize,” Kurt said._

_Without missing a beat, Connors yelled through gritted teeth, “I’m sorry.”_

_Leaning down to talk in Connors' face, Weller said, “I’ve stood by and watched her fend you off. I’ve watched every other man in this squad tell you to back off, but you don’t listen. So now it’s my turn. You step out of line with her again, and I’ll break a finger. If I run out of fingers, you’re discharged from the squad. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”_

_“Sure. Yea,” Connors answered._

_Kurt let go and Connors spat, “You’re awful protective. Maybe you’re still trying to impress her? Maybe you’re the one trying to hit that. Did she shoot you down?”_

_“Say whatever you want about me,” Kurt replied. “Just keep your mouth shut about her.”_

* * *

 

_Kurt and Remy quietly conspired to find a way to get the message to the drop location._

_In a few days, Weller had convinced McKinley that they needed enhanced security measures set up around the perimeter of the camp. He and Remy would set up these security posts safely away from the drop spot, and leave the note for Shepherd before they returned. Kurt was certain no one suspected a thing._

_After setting up the security monitoring stations, they had just made the drop and were headed back to the barracks when their SUV hit something that sent it rolling over, tossing them with disproportionate force given their somewhat limited speed. Kurt flew from the vehicle, his body being tossed aside as he landed in a nearly frozen pond. He actually crashed through a thin layer of ice, sending shards scattering like glass. Although Remy’s heart stopped, she reacted immediately just like she’d been trained._

_She ran to the pond, watching as his hand emerged from the water looking for something to use to pull himself out. She grabbed his outstretched hand, yanking him from the water as his clothes sloshed against the ground. He sat up, coughing, and he was already shivering. She grabbed his face as soon as the coughing ceased, checking his pupils as best as she could in the dim light. “I’m fine,” he tried to say reassuringly._

_She ran to the SUV, which was still on its side. In the back there was a small emergency kit. She found a few tarps and an emergency warming blanket. Kurt was slowly walking toward her, clearly shaken up. She instructed him to climb through the window, which was at the top since the vehicle was on its side, and wait in there. He was fully prepared to argue, but she ordered with more authority than he’d ever possessed, “Get in the damn SUV. You will freeze to death.”_

_She helped him climb in and she dropped down next to him a few seconds later. His lips were blue and he was shivering so much that his hands were shaking while he tried to rub his own arms to warm up. The wind rushed through the broken windows and swirled around them, enhancing his chill. She took his shirt off before he could even protest, wrapping her jacket as far around his shoulders as it could go. Grabbing the thin insulated emergency blanket, she quickly swung it over his shoulders and said, “Wait here. You need to get warm.”_

_Outside, she draped the additional tarps over the vehicle, covering any broken windows to cut down on the drafts that would steal their heat. She used a collapsible shovel to scoop mud and snow around the bottom of the vehicle to hold the tarps in place and provide the back section where he was resting with a little more insulation. When she was satisfied that the shelter was good enough to withstand the night, she went back in, carefully securing the tarp-roof behind her._

_She lit the lantern that was part of the emergency kit, and could see him propped in the corner. Kurt’s eyes were closed and his head back, and when she shined the light closer to him, she didn’t like the bluish color of his skin. “Kurt,” she yelled, tapping his face. “God, you’re cold. Stay awake.”_

_He was still shivering as she called the camp. She promised to hike a few miles closer, under the guise that it was safer and simpler for the rescue team, but mostly she wanted to get back to where they should have been, far from the drop site. McKinley told her he would send a rescue team out in the daylight rather than risk a second accident if they could survive the night. After assuring him that they’d be fine until morning, she hung up. Kurt half-joked, “Maybe McKinley’s hoping we’ll die out here in the cold.”_

_“If he is, he’s completely underestimating us.”_

_“Do you think he knows we’re suspicious?” Kurt chattered._

_“Probably.” She took off her shoes, pants and socks because they were wet and muddy, then unwrapped his blanket. Climbing in with him as quickly as she could, she sat up beside him and scowled, “You’re still soaked. We need to get you dry.”_

_Getting up again, she took off her tee shirt and stood there in her bra and panties. He politely looked away until she tossed her shirt to him and said, "Get the rest of your clothes off and dry with this as best as you can. She turned away and said, “I won’t look.”_

_Since she wasn’t running around anymore, she realized how cold it was. After a minute, she could hear the blanket crinkle and he mumbled, “Done.”_

_She dashed back under the waterproof blanket, wrapping it as tightly as possible around their bodies, leaving only their heads uncovered. Reaching out and putting her hat on his head, she said, “That’ll keep a little more heat in.”_

_The blanket was not soft or comfortable, more like an insulated grocery bag, but with both of them inside, the temperature began to rise. He was rubbing his hands together under the blanket, trying to warm his fingers, but his face was still red from exposure and cold. “Here,” she offered, moving closer and wrapping her arm around his shoulders and turning him. Her arms cradling his body, she pulled his face to her neck where he buried his frozen nose against her. “Better?” she asked._

_He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking his fingers under his arms to reheat them. After several minutes, his shivering slowed. “You still alive?” she asked, only half-joking._

_He nodded, his nose brushing against her neck, “You’re so warm,” he complimented. “Thank you,” he added, earnestly, “I’m sure this is uncomfortable for you.”_

_She answered calmly, “It would be a lot more uncomfortable if you died.”_

_“I just mean…I know you don’t like people being too close.”_

_After a long hesitation, she said, “It’s not the same. I trust you. I think.”_

_He sat up once he was a bit warmer, seeing that her face now looked red, probably with the beginnings of frostbite, so he offered, “Your turn.”_

_“That’s okay.”_

_“Remy, you look like Rudolph over there.” He patted his shoulder in invitation, so she moved closer. He had to lean down so she could bury her face between his neck and shoulder, but she sighed as she did because it felt so nice._

_She felt his fingers, astounded by the chill that still existed, so she started to rub them between her hands. Their bodies gradually crept closer and closer. The simultaneous warmth and comfort was so soothing and pleasant, and, as she cuddled there, she realized she’d never been so close with anyone for so long. She could feel her eyes soften as she lifted her head and found him looking at her._

_The sensation of being so close without feeling the usual revulsion was a curious one, and the longer they were there, the more she started to accept that she actually liked the feeling of him. She knew she was falling for this man, even though she felt foolish and childish for even allowing such a thought to cross her mind. Remembering their kiss a few weeks earlier, she started to internally lament that she’d broken it off. On impulse, she lifted her chin, bringing her mouth toward his. As his eyes bored into hers, but before their lips made contact, he touched her face with his slightly-chilled fingers and said, “I really want to kiss you. But if it makes you uncomfortable and you decide to run off…we’re both going to be really freakin’ cold.”_

_She smiled at him and replied, “So I guess I have to stay here.”_

_“At least until they come get us tomorrow. Anyway, I know you want things between us to stay uncomplicated."  
_

_"Maybe it doesn't have to be complicated. What if I tell you I won’t run off?”_

_“It depends on whether or not I believe you,” he replied calmly. Her head swam and her face actually felt warm. “If I did believe you…,” he repeated, thinking. He approached slowly, his eyes fixed on hers the entire time. As he came closer, she felt her heart racing, hoping that this wasn’t just a joke._

_He smiled so softly, giving her ample time to turn away, but finally bringing their lips together. Holding there for only a moment, his lips caressed hers gently, barely moving, and then he pulled away, his eyes refocusing on hers. Her hesitation flew by the wayside as she instigated the next kiss, dispensing with any uncertainty and crushing her mouth to his. All traces of caution evaporated into the unknown._

_As his arms encircled her body and pulled her close, she could feel excitement emanating from him while their kiss depended. She looped a leg over his lap, the blanket around them crinkling, unnoticed. Kurt leaned back a little, bringing her body against his while he paused this kiss long enough to take a breath. She crossed her arms over her head, grabbing her bra in an attempt to yank it from her body._

_He put his hands over hers and said, “I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve thought about this.”_

_“Me too,” she smiled, prepared to finish removing the garment._

_“Wait,” he interrupted. “I want this so bad. I really do. But this isn’t right.”_

_“Why?” she asked enticingly, her fingers finding his chest and dragging downward until she wrapped them around his sex._

_“God,” he groaned, his eyes closing while she slid her fingers over the soft, suede skin. She stroked carefully, exploring his growing thickness and length._

_“Does that feel good?” she whispered into his ear._

_“So good,” he barely managed to reply.  
_

_“I want you,” she rasped, and suddenly he shook his head and stilled her hands._

_“Not like this,” he answered, his stomach muscles twitching as she tightened her grip and pumped._

_“Why?” she asked when she realized he was serious, letting go of him, her sense of hurt obvious as she prepared for rejection._

_“Don’t be mad,” he immediately said, his hand moving to her face and caressing her cheek. “Believe me, I’d love to do this with you. I still want to.”_

_“So do this with me,” she replied, her lips moving against his as she spoke._

_“I want your first time to be…you know…better than this.”_

_“What’s wrong with this?”_

_“You deserve better. You deserve to be treated right.”_

_“It doesn’t matter where or when or how it happens. I don't need candles or silk sheets. None of those details matter. The only detail that matters to me is_ who _it happens with.”_

_“And you’re okay with it being me?”_

_She nodded and said, “I’m not just okay with it. It’s what I want. You might be the only man I trust enough. You know me. I never let down my guard. But with you…there’s just something about you that makes me feel…different.” He seemed to be mulling it over, looking away from her because he couldn’t possibly say no while looking at her. “Plus,” she added, “I am so incredibly attracted to you.”_

_“You are?” he smirked._

_“Mm-hmm,” she answered. “You have great eyes.”_

_“You too.”_

_“And soft, sexy lips,” she said as she kissed his mouth. “And such an amazing body,” she added, her hands feeling his chest and abs. “And this…,” she murmured, her hands slipping back down to his growing erection, “So thick and hard.”_

_“You’re killing me,” he sighed, his hands wrapping around her ass and massaging the flesh. He was so swept away._

_“Plus the government gave us experimental birth control…might as well make it useful,” she joked._

_“It’s either birth control or a kill switch,” he teased back, kissing her collarbone since not touching her was becoming impossible._

_“Would you really let me die without ever trying this?” she questioned._

_Her fingers tightened around his shaft, and he pulled her hands away. “That would be pretty cruel of me.”_

_“Tell me what to do,” she whispered, and his brain started to explode._

_“I’ll show you,” he offered his voice low and gravelly with desire._

_He took her arms and wrapped them around his neck, kissing down the flat of her chest to her breast as he took off her bra. His teeth grazed her nipple before his tongue flicked over the turgid peak. He wished he could see her naked before him, her whole beautiful body in front of him, but for now he’d have to explore her with other senses._

_One hand on the small of her back, his other moved between her thighs, his knuckle parting her folds. Her slit was slick and warmly welcoming, his finger brushing her swollen clit as her short nails dug into his shoulders. He pressed a finger into her opening, wanting to be sure she was ready for him. He was turned on beyond reason, honored that she would want him to be her first, and completely smitten. He’d long since forgotten being flung from the car, being cold and frozen, because he was in her arms._

_She was getting close just from their foreplay, and he figured her body would adjust to him more quickly if she was still chasing her climax. He pulled her forward as he leaned back just a little more so he could finally go inside her. “Are you sure?” he asked one more time. “If you want me to stop, all you—“_

_“I know,” she smiled reassuringly. “Now would you hurry up and fuck me, soldier.”_

_He grinned back at her with a quick kiss as he mumbled, “Yes, ma’am.”_

_He guided himself into her body, pushing the engorged tip through her entrance before he paused. She didn’t cry out or even flinch, her eyes softly closed. “Relax,” he said, feeling the tension in her body, his hands caressing her sides and back, and when she did as he’d suggested, he moved just a little deeper into her._

_Waiting was exquisitely painful pleasure, so he bit his lip as he tried to calm his rushing desire. He was there, with Remy. His Remy. She was simultaneously tight and slippery, almost too tight, and it drove him wild with need. When he was sheathed completely inside her, their bodies pressed together, he gently kissed her before he used his hands to lift her from his body until he was almost completely out, and then carefully brought their bodies back together. After a few times, she started to really relax, and he could see that she was beginning to feel the pleasure of their union._

_“You okay?” he asked when she started to gasp softly, his hands guiding the movement of her hips.  
_

_“It feels good,” she shuddered, “don’t stop yet.”_

_“I won't,” he answered before he rolled her under him._

_It wasn’t simple, the blanket scrunching around them as they were trapped in the constraints of the vehicle, not that either of them really noticed anything but each other._

_Now that she seemed to be accustomed to him, he kissed her neck and shoulders, his hands finding her breasts as he was able to really start to move. He was making love to her, bringing her body steadily higher, and then she was writhing, her hips rising to meet him, her hands grabbing his ass to pull him into her. She didn’t need instruction, her body knew what to do and how to chase ecstasy, how to counter to each of his moves._

_For a second, he thought that maybe he wouldn’t just be her first. Maybe he could be the only man she was ever with. Maybe she could be, in every way, his. He didn’t know why, but something about that was so erotic that he had to stop considering it. Maybe he was losing his mind._

_He closed his eyes, using his weight to press down on her to make sure her pleasure spot wasn’t neglected. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. With a sudden jerk, she clamped down around him, her inner muscles squeezing as her back arched, and he was done, his senses overloading as he rocked their bodies together a few more times to the sound of the final gasping breaths of her orgasm._

_She pulled him down on top of her with a vise-like grip, refusing to let him leave and unable to move. He was still nestled inside her, her body pulsing slightly. “I didn’t expect that,” she told him as her fingers stroked the back of his head._

_“Didn’t expect what?”_

_“I didn’t expect it to be that good.”_

_“Thanks, that’s very flattering,” he sarcastically replied, chuckling._

_“I didn’t mean because of you. I just didn’t think anyone’s first time was very…you know…good.”_

_“So it was good?” he asked with a cocky smile. “You liked it?”_

_“Like you need to ask. Think maybe we could try it again some time?”_

_He was simultaneously happy that she was already thinking about the next time and worried that she would even consider the possibility that there wouldn’t be a next time. “I hope so,” he replied, sounding more insecure than he liked. “I feel like I at least earned one more try.”_

_“I’ll get better,” she answered._

_“You were perfect,” he insisted._

* * *

 

_They fell asleep entangled, the crinkly blanket still wrapped around them, faces buried against each other’s necks to try to stay warm. They put on whatever dry clothing they had, but she was far more dressed than he, and her clothes didn’t fit over his larger frame._

_Remy wasn’t sure how long she’d been sleeping, but when she heard the tarps that covered the SUV rattle with more force than they would have from the wind that blew past, she startled awake just in time to see a pair of tightly laced military boots drop into their shelter._

_“Shepherd!” Remy practically yelled, feeling Kurt protectively grab her and try to move her behind him. “I’m fine,” she assured him._

_He stared with disbelief as he asked the intruder, “What in the hell are you doing here?”_

_“It’s good to see both of you,” Shepherd said, offering a perfunctory hug to her daughter and a handshake to Kurt, who remained under the blanket because he was less dressed than his companion._

_“You knew Kurt?” Remy asked._

_“You think I’d send you here without someone to watch your back?”_

_With a sense of betrayal, Remy looked at Kurt and said, “You were_ ordered _to look out for me?”_

_“No!” he earnestly shook his head. “I had no idea you were even joining the squad. I swear. And once you came, I had no idea who you were.”_

_“From the moment I met him, I knew you’d get along,” Shepherd assured._

_“Do you want to tell me what’s going on here?” Remy demanded. “Clearly something’s going on.”_

_“We’ll have time for campfire stories another day,” Shepherd responded coolly. “For now, there are more important issues at hand. Your squad is on their way to get you, so we don’t have much time.”_

_“How do you know that?” Weller asked._

_“Like I said…story time will have to wait. I need you to listen. McKinley is on to you. Your little accident was no accident. You need to watch your backs.”_

_“That doesn’t make sense,” Kurt argued, “we’re all on the same side.”_

_“I thought we were, too. We’re not,” Shepherd asserted._

_“McKinley’s dirty?” he asked._

_“This is a lot bigger than McKinley. Orion is not what I thought it was. You are both in danger.”_

_“Then what is it?” Remy asked._

_“It’s not safe for you to know too much. I need you to go back and act like everything is okay. I’m going to arrange to pull you both out of there, but I need time.”_

_“What about the squad?” Kurt asked. “I can’t just leave them behind.”_

_Shepherd impatiently responded, “After I get the two of you out, we’ll work on going back for the rest of them. For now, I need you to try to get your hands on some things in medical. There are a number of vaccinations, and an implant that they’re planning on testing on all of you.”_

_“Like this?” Remy asked, showing Shepherd the bump under the skin of her upper arm._

_“Shit,” Shepherd replied. “I was hoping to get to you before you got them.”_

_“What is it?” Weller asked worriedly._

_“Control,” Shepherd said. “They want control over their soldiers. I have to go. You’ll hear from me soon with an extraction plan. It is critical that you act as if everything is normal. Follow orders. Get me any of the vaccines or implants that you can get your hands on so we can figure out what else they’re giving you. Do you understand?”_

_“Yes ma’am,” they both answered automatically._

_“Remy, can you come with me for a minute?” Shepherd asked._

_“Sure,” Remy answered. Looking at Kurt, she promised. “I’ll be right back.”_

_They stepped a few feet away from the SUV, and Remy realized how warm it had felt in their little shelter all alone. Pulling Remy from her distraction, Shepherd asked, “Is there anything you want to tell me?”_

_“No. Why?” Remy asked, feeling the ache in her body that reminded her of exactly how close she and Kurt were only a few hours earlier.  
_

_“Are you and Weller…involved?”_

_“His clothes were just wet. We were—“_

_“I don’t mean physically.” Shepherd assured. “That doesn’t matter. As long as there’s nothing more to it.”_

_“What?”_

_“Are you going to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about?”_

_“Why would that matter?”_

_“Remy, I’m just looking out for you. Weller is a great soldier. One of the best. But—“_

_“You said you knew we’d get along, so what’s the problem?”_

_“I thought you’d be smarter than this. Emotions can cloud your judgment.”_

_“My judgement is not clouded,” Remy argued, staring resolutely._

_“Sometimes tough choices need to be made for the good of the cause. And we can't let anything get in the way."  
_

_“What are you talking about? I won’t betray him and I won’t leave him behind.”_

_“I’m not asking you to leave him behind. Be a good soldier. Don’t let your heart get involved. You’re my strong, rational, logical daughter. Emotional decisions are not good decisions. Remember that,” Shepherd said. “Stay focused.” With a smile, she added, “That’s an order.”_

_Shepherd had had her hands full with young Remy when she’d first adopted her. She had to impose strict rules, and often ran her home with military precision. Remy quickly grew to respect Shepherd, more as a leader than as a mother. Although Shepherd cared for her children, she wasn’t much more adept at love than they were by the time she took them in. Once Shepherd had finally won the girl over, Remy always listened to her orders._

_“Yes, ma’am,” Remy finally answered, the two hugging quickly and stiffly before they parted._

_“You’ll hear from me soon.”_

_Remy slipped back into the SUV and said, coldly, “We gotta hike out to the meeting spot.”_

_“Hey?” he asked, noticing immediately that she seemed different._

_“What?” she responded, almost robotically._

_“Don’t you ‘what’ me?” he teased, pulling her back on his lap. “We’ll get through this. We’ll be okay,” he said, rubbing her neck with his thumb as he held her. “Shepherd will get us out of here. You can count on that.”_

_She pulled away, her eyes staring downward because she was resolved to detach as she’d been ordered to do. “We should go.”_

_“Talk to me,” he requested, clearly not ordering._

_Her eyes darted up to his and she said, “I like you,” as if she was admitting to some fault._

_“Good. I like you too. A lot.”_

_She smirked almost shyly and said, her fingers sliding over his heart, “Last night…was fun.”_

_He nodded slowly, “Very, very fun.”_

_“You were right.”_

_“About what?”_

_“About earning at least one more time,” she whispered, reaching down into the blanket. “I don’t know when we’ll have time alone again. Think you’re up for it?”_

_“You might be able to convince me,” he said, lying down flat and pulling her to him._

_As the warmth of desire and passion spread over her skin and through her very spirit, she stopped kissing him for one moment to look in his eyes, finding the same look returned like a mirror image. For the first time in a very long time, she knew she couldn’t obey one of Shepherd’s orders. Remy had somehow fallen for the soldier who was staring adoringly up at her._


	12. Like Mother Like Daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-one or two of you have asked about my old story. I will probably return and finish that one, but I can only handle one story at at time, so I'd like to finish this one first. This is pretty much my obsession right now. I'll try to get two chapters up before Christmas. Thank you all!

Ever since Jane had described her memory of the two of them being abducted and having their memories taken, Kurt couldn't seem to stop dreaming of the same room she'd described. He could only assume that Jane had already been wheeled away in his dream, because he was alone in the room with the woman in a surgical mask. She told him she was sorry for what had happened, but her plan was more important than the lives of any two individuals.

"I have plans…important roles for each of you that don't involve these complications," the woman would say. "One day, you'll understand. You will help bring justice to those who deserve to pay for their actions."

"If it's justice you want, why not just ask for our help?" Kurt would plead. "You don't have to do this. We're on your side."

"It will be better if you don't even know the role you're playing. We want to make real, lasting change. We can't run in there, guns blazing, and hope to effectively change the system."

"Bring them back to me," he bargained. "If you do, I swear I'll help you with your plan. No questions asked."

She pulled down the mask and smiled, "You'll do this for me…for our country. For the fallen. I know this is hard to understand. When the time is right, I'll bring her back to you. You have my word. If the feelings you have are as strong as she thinks they are, you'll find your way back to each other again."

Sensing that his time to negotiate was coming near its end, he tried one last time, "You don't have to do this. Please."

"You both chose this path. I warned her not to let emotions cloud her judgment. She didn't listen, so now it has to be this way."

Then his dream would carry him to another memory. He would catch a glimpse of a young Jane, leaning against the ropes of a boxing ring as she said, her voice echoing in his mind, "Kurt, I need to talk to you," before everything went black.

He'd always wake right after hearing that, feeling a sense of loss more profound than he even knew how to handle. He'd wrap his arms around Jane, promising himself that, no matter what happened, they were together again. And he wouldn't let anything change that. He struggled to grasp the rest of the memories, like reaching through the bars of a cell for a key that was always just an inch too far away. He tried to recall any details about that place in the hopes that they could find it again, or even try to remember who else had been abducted with them, because he could always remember clearly asking the masked woman to "bring _them_ back." There must have been other squad members taken with them. Maybe someone else had survived and could help them figure out what had happened all those years ago.

Clearly the masked woman had known them…she always mentioned her plans and that she had warned Remy not to allow emotions to interfere. Did that woman really promise to reunite them? Could anyone plan something so many years in advance? He really hated this constant state of unknowing, especially when he suspected the truth may be devastating.

He started to really understand what Jane had been going through since her memory had been taken over a year ago. Even though she ferociously sought answers, she'd found a way to adapt to a life without all of the pieces of its puzzle in place. This night, like many nights, she called out in pain, often whispering his name as she relived torturous moments that had obviously deeply wounded her. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to fully remember.

Still they continued on, holding on to each other, adrift in the middle of the otherwise angry sea their lives had become. Sometimes he longed for the simplicity of his life before, when it was driven by a clear sense of right and wrong, and his devotion to his job at the FBI. For a moment, everything had been perfect after she'd come to join them, and he saw the possibility of a future in a world he'd understood. Now, even that seemed tainted as he wondered which events in his life were true and which were orchestrated to serve some other purpose. In spite of the mystery that surrounded them and their past, what he had with Jane felt like the one true thing in his life.

* * *

After making and finishing two cups of weak instant coffee that were available in their room, they set out again, this time for the area known as 'Gomorrah', a subdivision of Joburg that was officially named Alexandra. This place was right next to a very different township, Sandton, whose skyline could be seen boasting of its affluence in the distance. The sight of that skyline seemed very familiar to Jane.

They walked along the streets and the river, finally reaching a part of the town with well-constructed but modest homes that were more permanent than the temporary shacks many inhabited. Something about that street made Jane slow as she turned to take in the area from many viewpoints. "See something?" Kurt asked.

"I guess not," she answered, somberly. "For a second, I thought…let's just keep going."

They continued to the top of a sloping street, and noticed an ancient woman, who had been fervently sweeping the sidewalk to her home, suddenly stop and hurry inside.

A moment later, the woman reemerged with two men, one was, like her, quite aged. A younger man, probably in his thirties, darted out after them. "Misses Carolyn?" he asked Jane.

She shook her head, but stopped, "I'm Jane," she started, feeling that was her real name. Remembering her complicated life, she added, "I think some people call me Remy."

"I'm sorry, misses. My grandmother thought you looked like a woman who lived here a long time ago. Forgive me, she is old, and her mind isn't what it used to be."

"Who did she think this was?" Kurt asked.

"We had neighbors when I was just a boy. Carolyn and her husband, George. I have to admit, the resemblance is a bit striking. Last we saw her, over twenty years ago, she was around the age you are now."

"Where did she go?" Jane asked, her interested piqued.

"She died, sadly. She and her husband. I'm sorry to take up your time."

The old woman was teetering down the hill after them, angrily shouting in another language at the younger man. Rather than watch her struggle to get to them, Jane and Kurt walked back to her. "He thinks I'm crazy, yes?" she said in heavily accented English. "Carolyn? You are Carolyn Kruger."

"I'm not," Jane replied. "At least I don't think so."

"Her little girl then? You are Alice? You must be. You are the perfect image of your mother. This one though," she said, taking in Kurt, "this is not little Ian, is it? He was just a wisp of a boy."

"This is Kurt," Jane said. "Can you tell us anything else about Carolyn?"

The old woman turned and started teetering back up the hill to her home. After a few steps, she looked back, "You want to hear stories or not?"

They followed the woman, Marie, to her home, watching as the younger man, Marcus, followed her directions to get the visitors a drink. She was rifling through old boxes, making more of a mess than anything. After nearly an hour, Jane and Kurt were beginning to think maybe she was just a crazy old woman, then she said, "I knew I had it."

Handing a rumpled and aged photograph to Jane, Marie said, "That's them. See, isn't that like looking in a mirror?"

Kurt stared in awe at the photo. The likeness was uncanny. The woman appeared to dress and act in a more proper manner than Jane ever would, but their eyes, their smile, that jet black hair, it was all startlingly similar. "Look," the old woman exclaimed, holding out another picture. "You and your brother with my Marcus."

Kurt chuckled as he looked at the second picture. The little girl had mussed up hair, scuffed knees and the look of a rough and tumble kid who'd been playing all day, and he said, "Now that reminds me of you."

"If this is you, why don't you remember?" Marcus asked.

"Amnesia," Jane replied.

Marie sat down, sighing gratefully when her rear hit the seat of the chair. "Carolyn, she came from some serious money. That woman was raised like a princess. She had everything she wanted when she was small. George, he was a good boy, but his folks had no money. They died when he was a young man, left him the house next to us. When Carolyn was a teenager, she was full of rebellion, and angry about the injustices all around her that her parents had tried so hard to hide from her. She joined volunteer groups and attended rallies, met George. They thought they could fix the world. They surely tried. Sadly, they chose the wrong battle."

"What battle?" Jane asked.

"They wanted to take down Apartheid. They weren't the first. But they made some enemies. Local man, rumor had it, sort of like a government enforcer…he killed them right in front of the house while the kids watched from the window. I think they woulda been killed too, but that girl grabbed her little brother and ran away."

"What happened to them after that?"

"When Carolyn married George, her parents disowned her and left her without a penny. They never met their own grandchildren, and George's parents were long gone, so I offered to take the kids in if they returned. A man came looking for them…claimed he was an uncle, but I didn't believe it. When the kids finally returned home, filthy and starving, he was waiting for them. We never saw them again."

"I heard rumors," Marcus said, "that someone saw them in Cape Town a few months later. Alice was robbing tourists, picking pockets."

Marcus gave them a description of the area, and the old woman asked, "It is you, isn't it? You are Alice?"

"Maybe," Jane said with a sad smile.

"You know where little Ian is?"

"I have no idea," Jane replied.

* * *

They sat and talked for hours, the woman regaling them with stories of the neighbors she'd loved like family. Jane and Kurt had tried to step away gracefully, but the woman just wouldn't take the hint. Before they left, she insisted that Jane take the picture of Carolyn and George Kruger, and the photo with the boy who might be her brother.

When they finally left and started the walk back to their hotel, Jane commented, "I'd never disown my child for falling in love. I don't understand how those people, possibly my grandparents, could have completely separated from their daughter and ignored their grandchildren."

"Because you're nothing like them," Kurt answered. "Do you want to try to find your grandparents? They may still be alive."

"And say what?" Jane asked. "They disowned their daughter. Ignored their grandchildren and let them go to that orphanage. Even if they are my grandparents, they are not my family. I have my own family."

She took Kurt's hand as they walked. He said, "Want to go to Cape Town? There are two possible locations on Hark's list."

"Yea. Let's go. If there's even a chance that place is still active, we need to get those kids out of there.

* * *

— **May 2003-Secret US Military Training Camp somewhere in Eastern Europe** —

_Over the next few months, as things became better between Kurt and Remy, they got worse in the camp. The soldiers were fighting amongst themselves more and more. Connors' anger became so intense, he often seemed almost rabid with rage. Missions that had once run smoothly were now fraught with mistakes and poor judgment by a few of the soldiers, while others continued to perform in peak condition. Although he and Remy were not among the troubled few, Kurt was worried that they might be hurt or killed because of the failings of others._

_Kurt and Remy found every available opportunity to sneak off together. They tried to forget the horrors they saw by finding comfort in each other's arms. It wasn't really enough to make them forget the reality that surrounded them, but it was enough to help them get through the long, hard days with something to focus on besides their somewhat grim circumstance._

_One day, Kurt was in a meeting with McKinley in the administrative office. They heard a few gunshots ring out, which wasn't all that atypical at the camp, but McKinley's phone rang shortly thereafter. McKinley listened to the person on the other end of the phone, and then hung up. He put his glasses back on and scrawled a few notes on a paper. "Weller, there's a problem in the barracks. Go take care of Connors. He's become a liability."_

" _Sir?" Kurt asked._

_McKinley took off his glasses and said emotionlessly, "Sgt. Weller, Connors is having an episode. He shot Owens in the barracks and is holding other soldiers hostage. Go take him out before he hurts anyone else."_

_Weller stood, grabbing his weapon and hurriedly going for the door. "To clarify, sir," Weller started._

" _Shoot to kill, Weller. That's an order."_

_Kurt's brain whirred with a thousand questions as he ran to the barracks. As always, his first thoughts went to Remy. She and Connors had never gotten along, and he was concerned that Connors was taking his anger out on her. Weller approached a window at the barracks, seeing Connors standing over a group of three men who were lying face down on the floor in front of him. From the window, Kurt couldn't see Remy._

_Carefully entering the building, he could immediately tell that Connors was having some kind of breakdown. He was crying and screaming at the same time, shouting in gibberish in between intelligible words. Owens was on the floor behind him, lying in a pool of his own blood. "What do you want, Weller?" Connors screamed, ranting and smacking the side of his own head with his fist._

_Weller held his gun out to the side and said, "I just want to talk."_

" _You want to talk?"_

" _Yea, man," Kurt calmly said, "tell me what you need."_

" _Where's your girlfriend?"_

" _Which one?" Weller flippantly replied._

" _You know who the fuck I mean. Where is she? Where's Remy?"_

" _I don't know. I was talking to McKinley. I'm not sure where she's at."_

" _Bullshit," Connors screamed in a long stream of garble._

_He started smacking his head again, and appeared to be arguing with someone no one else could see. Weller put his gun down on the floor and kicked it away, realizing that Connors was having a complete mental breakdown and needed help. "We can figure this out."_

" _We're fucking lab rats," Connors screamed, repeatedly chanting, "shut up," to himself._

" _Listen, man," Weller said as he came closer, "I can't help you unless you put down the gun. Even if you kill me, someone's going to shoot you before you get out of here. Let me help you. We've all seen some fucked up shit."_

_They had all seen atrocities. There was no therapist on staff, no one to talk to except each other. Many of the soldiers were becoming aggressive and hostile._

" _You don't get it. I didn't just kill Owens…I saved him," Connors explained._

" _From what?" Weller asked, his tone indicating belief._

" _They're going to kill all of us when they're done anyway," Connors said. He took off his coat, and showed his upper arm, where he'd dug the implant out from under his skin. "Do you have any idea what they're doing to us?"_

" _Tell me. I'm listening."_

" _I shot Owens because he was a good guy. No one here deserves this. And this is the only way out."_

" _There's got to be another way," Kurt said, taking a step._

_When he was finally almost close enough to disarm Connors, the imbalanced man screamed, "You're just screwing with me."_

_Kurt knew, without a doubt, that he was about to die as Connors' expression changed to rage and suspicion, and he lifted his gun. Weller was certain he could already taste the blood. He heard a shot and waited for the lights to go out. There was a scramble, loud and disorderly, as the soldiers on the floor jumped up and kicked Connors gun away._

_Connors lay on the floor, one bullet through his heart. Hanging down from a vent in the ductwork, was Remy, gun still pointed at Connors' lifeless body. She hopped down, flipping in mid-air until she landed on her feet. "You okay?" she asked Weller and the men who had been on the floor._

_Ruiz hugged her roughly, "You saved my fucking life," he shouted._

_Weller stood there, stunned, staring in disbelief. A team promptly arrived, the usual medic and three uniformed personnel who started quickly gathering the bodies and cleaning up the mess while two men dressed as MPs ushered the survivors from the room._

" _You shot him," Kurt stated calmly to Remy._

" _He was about to kill you," she replied. "I didn't have a choice."_

" _I know," he answered. "Thank you."_

" _What happened back there?"_

" _I'm not sure. Something made Connors snap. He was convinced someone was after him. Someone was going to experiment on all of us, then kill us. Maybe it's just PTSD."_

" _Or maybe we should get these implants out ASAP."_

" _I'd hold off on that. He cut his out, and that might have actually made it worse."_

* * *

_That night, she lay in bed, unable to sleep. She wondered if she and Weller would ever spend a normal night together in the same bed before they died. It seemed increasingly clear to her that they would probably die out there. They seemed sentenced to this life, one of stolen moments and secret love. At first, the illicit nature of their affair made it more exciting, but she was starting to wonder if there would ever be more for them._

_He got up from his bunk and nodded to her to follow him._

_She watched as he walked across the same floor where the bodies of their fellow squad members had lifelessly lain just a few hours earlier. Things had officially gone off the rails. A short while later, she followed him to the gym. After she entered, he locked the doors from the inside and swept her up in his arms. For all of the uncertainty and insanity in their lives as of late, they had this. They had each other._

_In moments, their clothes were shed as they sought the reassurance and familiarity of their physical relationship on the cool, padded floor. They had become maestros conducting each other's physical responses. Communicating through actions and whispers, each learned what the other wanted, and sought to meet each of those desires. She certainly didn't want to be seen as a novice at anything, least of all this.  
_

_In each other's arms, there was no death or pain. There was only pleasure and companionship. Sometimes, when they were at the heights of their passion, they'd quietly admit their feelings. They never spoke of such feelings at any other moment, but both knew the words had been spoken during vulnerable seconds they were unable to control. Those were the only times when she could really forget the rest of the world._

_That night, after they'd had yet another round of amazing sex with whispered mentions of affection, they sat, leaning against the wall, basking in their time together before they had to return to their separate beds. Her arm around his waist and his draped over her shoulders, he asked, "Have you heard from Shepherd?"_

" _Nothing yet," Remy responded._

" _You know, we don't have to wait for her. Maybe we need our own exit strategy. I don't have a good feeling about this. Something isn't right."_

_Remy paused, the dutiful side of her brain speaking, "We'll get out of here soon. Speaking of which, it's probably time we call off this…thing between us. Don't you think?"_

" _Why?" he asked, keeping his arm around her. "What happened?"_

" _Nothing. It was fun, but we both know what this is."_

" _Don't try to tell me this is just fucking. This is more than just physical," he argued, his brow furrowing angrily. "You can lie to yourself all you want, but don't lie to me."_

" _If it isn't just fucking, then that's even worse," she countered. "Shepherd warned me about letting emotions get involved. We need to stop before—"_

" _Remy," he interrupted, with cautious accusation, "emotions have been involved here from the start. This has never been strictly physical for either of us. You know that as well as I do."_

" _It's not safe."_

" _What's not safe?"_

_She answered coldly. "Are we going to end up like Connors?"_

" _I'd shoot myself before I'd ever hurt you."_

" _Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she said, her voice raising, showing uncharacteristic emotion and immediately feeling disappointment for allowing those feelings to show._

" _I thought it would."_

" _If you died, that would not make me feel better," she chastised, tears actually forming in the corners of her eyes. "Dammit," she griped, leaning her face into her hands, "Shepherd was right."_

" _About what?"_

" _When I thought Connors was going to kill you…" she paused for a long time, and he didn't interrupt, allowing her to work through the thoughts as they came. "I wasn't in control. I wasn't thinking with my head. I was weak."_

" _You're right," he said sarcastically, "and in that moment of weakness, you climbed up through the ventilation system, found a way into the room, dropped down, and managed to shoot him before he killed me. Clearly you weren't performing at your best."_

" _That's not what I meant."_

" _What did you mean then?"_

" _I just…when I thought you might die…I…"_

" _You what?" he pressed._

" _I thought—it's just—I didn't think I could handle it. Shepherd has always warned me to stay objective. I've always been so good at that."_

" _She's an amazing commander," he agreed. "But you don't have to go through life not feeling anything to be a good soldier. She can't force you to be emotionless."_

" _Feeling hurts," she said. "And it compromises everything."_

" _Yea. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it also feels good. Look, I know you're scared, but—"_

" _I am not scared," she interrupted defensively._

" _I think you are. You're scared that what happened to Connors could happen to us. You're scared something could happen to me—"_

" _And you're not?"_

" _I didn't say that." Going back to his point, he continued, "But you know what I think scares you the most?"_

" _What's that?"_

" _You're scared of how you feel about me."_

_She scoffed, shaking her head, "You're reading too much into this."_

" _You're worried that you're falling for me."_

_Her words stumbled at bit, as her face flushed, "What makes you think that?"_

" _Look at me and tell me it isn't true," he challenged, staying so close that she felt small next to him. "Tell me I'm imagining things and I'll never ask you about it again."_

_After silently fighting with herself, she admitted, "I can't say that."_

" _I feel the same way about you," he admitted. "This is new territory for me, too. I've focused my life on being a soldier, following orders, being the best. You are the first thing to really distract me from that."_

" _That's exactly my point. If I'm a distraction, being with me puts you in danger."_

" _We aren't the problem. Orion is. So let's get the hell out of here."_

" _And go where?"_

" _Anywhere we want," he argued._

" _We've been programmed to be cold-blooded killers…machines, not people. We can't just flip a switch, forget what we've seen and become human again."_

" _No matter how hard they try, they cannot take our humanity. We don't have to forget. We can fight…make sure this doesn't happen to other people. You were forced into this life as a child, but now you're an adult. And no one, not me or McKinley or Shepherd or anyone else, can tell you who you're going to be. If you want to choose your own path, no one can stop you. If Shepherd doesn't come for us soon, I'm going to find my own way out. Come with me?"_

_She paused, looking into his eyes and nodding. "Yea."_

_He kissed her softly and he whispered, "Did I ever tell you that I can read palms?"_

" _Is this a line that actually works with some women?"_

" _No. It's totally legit," he joked, taking her hand and pretending to study the lines on her palm._

" _Right. See anything good on there?"_

" _One or two things. In spite of a difficult childhood, your best years are yet to come. I see happiness. Also…a tall, gorgeous man…a soldier. Yup…I definitely see love in your future…and a tremendous amount of sexual satisfaction. He must be really good in bed."_

" _That sounds great!_ _Does it say where I can meet him?" she teased, smirking when he pretended to be hurt._

" _It's perfectly clear…you've already met him," he said, pointing at a particular line. "That's interesting," he said, studying closer._

" _What is it?"_

" _Well, insight like this doesn't come cheap. If you want to know, it'll cost ya twenty bucks."_

_Since she was still naked, she looked down at her body and said, "I don't appear to have any cash on me at the moment."_

" _Fine, this reading is free," he explained, "but next time, I'll have to charge double." Tracing the lines with the tip of his thumb, he said, "Yup, it's completely obvious when you look at it."_

" _What?"_

" _This guy…you know, the tall, gorgeous stud you've already met…he's going to ask you to marry him someday. It's all right here."_

" _Is that a fact?" she chuckled._

" _That's a fact," he replied._


	13. Merged Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Okay, I split this chapter into two parts because it was getting too long, but the second part is already about half written, so I will try to have it up before Christmas, or right after. Thank you all for being such an incredible Fandom!

Kurt continued to dream those horrible dreams where he was strapped to a gurney. There were some additions each night, but most of the dream stayed the same. He remembered the woman in the surgical mask. He remembered another figure coming in to the room and asking, “Shepherd, do you have his story ready?”

“Yes,” the woman, Shepherd, replied. “We need to make sure we get this right. And let’s go with the FBI, not the CIA. This operation needs jurisdiction on US soil.”

“What about the FBI?” Kurt asked.

“You’ve always wanted to be an agent,” she casually replied.

“No I haven’t,” he argued.

“Well, very soon, you will. And not just any agent. You’re very driven to be the best. You’re a natural leader. Once we finish your letters of commendation and embellish your nearly perfect record serving in Afghanistan and the Middle East, the FBI will swoop you right up. The FBI will be your life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll be our man on the inside. It’s quite an honor. It took us a lot of searching to find the perfect candidate.”

“You think you can force me to infiltrate the FBI?” he scoffed. “Why would I take orders from you?”

“That’s the beauty of it. You’ll think you’re doing what you want to do…you won’t have to listen to me. The most convincing operatives don’t know they’re operatives. When the time comes, we’ll remind you of who you are. Besides, you know as well as I do that McKinley and everyone like him needs to be exposed and punished."

“Mind control?” he asked.

She sighed, “Not exactly. More like a subtle reprogramming. Under the right circumstances, even the strongest minds are open to suggestion. You’ll forget Orion, me, McKinley…even Remy. Everything about your time here. When you wake up, you’ll be returning home from the war full of memories of your time there. When you see Remy again in a few years, you won’t understand why you feel so protective over her. That’s an important component. We certainly hadn’t planned on the two of you becoming so… _personal_ …but since you have, we’ll use that to our advantage. You’re the man on the inside. She’ll handle the outside, our link to you. It’s perfect.”

He began struggling to free his arms. He didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want to be some mindless puppet who was programmed to serve a purpose beyond his control. He had to get free, find Remy and figure out a way to escape. Shepherd left and an armed young man stood by the door. There was something familiar about his eyes, green and detached, but somehow sympathetic beneath the hardened exterior. This guy was so young, clearly too young to be a soldier, probably only sixteen or seventeen, but a long scar that marred his face made it clear that the boy wasn’t new to conflict. There was something in his demeanor that made it seem like he harbored reservations about the things that were happening around him. That uncertainty gave Kurt hope. “You know this isn’t right, don’t you?” Kurt begged, “Let me go and I’ll get her out of here. You can come too. You don’t want to get mixed up with these people.”

Then, as it always happened in his dream, Kurt switched to a vision of Jane in a boxing ring, leaning against the ropes. “Kurt, I need to talk to you,” she said. The vision of her changed, certain features like her hair and expression morphing from Remy to Jane and back. He could see the tattoos appearing as if they were being drawn on her body and then they’d fade away. She was becoming the same person in his more conscious mind. When she spoke again, she looked like she did when she was younger, sounding incredibly nervous as she said, “I’m pregnant. I’m not asking for anything or trying to trap you. I can handle it myself.”

She disappeared from his dream, and he could see the green-eyed young man again, standing in the background as Kurt was strapped to the gurney. Kurt could hear the man say, “I know it seems like Shepherd’s being cruel, but it’s for the best. She’s looking out for Remy. After what McKinley and his freak-show doctors did, the kid would probably be messed up…just a guinea pig to them. They wanted to design the next generation of hunters…the greatest hunters…that’s where the name Orion comes from—the hunter. Remy wouldn’t want to be a lab rat and she certainly wouldn’t want to turn her kid over to be some super soldier. Someday you’ll understand.”

Kurt jerked up in bed, suddenly wide awake and freed from his dream. Jane wasn’t next to him, and that fact alone terrified him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to decide which images in his mind were dreams and which were memories. Was his subconscious simply exposing the things he truly wanted and feared? Maybe he was trying to imagine a life where he and Jane had a family and things weren’t so complicated. Maybe the dream was more symbolic. There were still far too many unknowns to understand the truth.

The key card clicked in the hotel door, and Jane held it open with her foot as she carried in coffee and a brown paper bag. “I can’t stand that instant coffee anymore,” she calmly said, handing him a tall cup before she kissed his cheek. “You’re really sweating.”

“Dreams, I guess,” he answered, his voice rough from waking.

“I grabbed you a breakfast sandwich,” she said, studying his face and pressing the back of her hand to his forehead to see if he was feverish. “You’re pale, too. You feeling alright?”

“Yea, I’m fine,” he said, getting up and tripping off to the bathroom, splashing his face and neck with the coldest water the faucet would provide.

When he came back, her arms were crossed as she bit her lip worriedly, “If you’re sick, we can take a day off, or I can scope out those locations on my own and if there’s something suspicious, I'll come back and get you.”

“You want me to believe that you’d actually come back and get me for backup if you saw something suspicious?” he skeptically chuckled. “You’ve never been one to wait to help someone in trouble.”

“I’ll try—“

He interrupted, “I’m fine, Jane. I promise.” Then he thought about his dream, and took the opportunity to ask, “How about you? You feeling okay?”

“Me? Yea, I’m fine. Why?”

“Just curious. Everything…you know…normal?”

She looked at him like he was crazy, “Normal? I guess…I don’t even know what normal is anymore. What’s this about?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled, deciding to save this conversation for another day. After all, they were going to check possible orphanage locations, and he didn’t want her to be more stressed than she probably already was. It didn’t feel like the time to mention that he believed she was at one time pregnant with his child who may or may not have received certain enhancements by unscrupulous doctors. He just hated the empty feeling, deep within him, a massive and endless void. He’d known it had been there for a long time. He’d attributed it to Taylor, to his parents’ divorce, to feeling misunderstood and separated. But now, when he felt reminded of a loss that had been buried deep down with other forgotten memories, he knew there was more to that emptiness. He’d lost his love, and probably their child. What made it even worse was the way he’d lost it. Someone had robbed them of their lives and each other, stolen away a chance at happiness.

As he got ready for the day, his limbs felt as heavy as his heart, like every step required a decision to make the effort to move. She was the only person he could talk to about it, but he didn’t want to burden her just yet. He wondered if she had any of these memories.

They went to the first place on Hark’s list that was in Cape Town. A few of the windows were broken, the porch sagging down to the right since the supports seemed to have rotted away. They went around to the back, trying to avoid the scrutiny of anyone nearby. The door wasn't locked, so it was easy to gain entrance. It appeared that squatters had probably taken up residence here from time to time. There were spent needles along some of the window sills and a few cardboard boxes that had served as beds. Kurt checked the second floor, reasonably certain that the place was empty.

One gunshot popped in the air, and Jane shouted, “Just me.”

After checking all of the second floor, finding nothing more than garbage and a few feral cats slinking around in the shadows, he went to meet up with Jane. He went down a long hall near the kitchen, seeing a door with the lock shot off, and he knew this was the reason why she’d fired her gun. He descended down into the basement, saying, “Jane, it’s Weller,” so he didn’t take her by surprise and get shot himself.

She didn’t answer. The steps were steep, and the smell of the lower level grew more loathsome as he descended. It smelled of waste, blood, decay and death, and it was almost unbearably heavy. The underground level was much larger than the structure above, sprawling from a center room into adjacent connected rooms. He checked the first of the connected rooms, finding filthy, torn up mattresses, pots that were probably used as toilets, and even a few dismembered toys and plush animals strewn about. Along many of the walls and the floor, there were numerous old stains that he was fairly certain were blood. There was a long switch and a wooden paddle that hung on one wall that he guessed were among the preferred forms of punishment. There were even a few animal cages that he worried had been used for children. Everything about this place and what had likely happened here made him sick.

He finally found Jane. She was seated on the ground, her legs bent under her as she sat on her feet. Her fingers traced something that had been carved into the wood, and when he came close, he saw she was touching the initials “A.K.” and “I.K.” She didn’t look emotional, and didn’t seem to notice the stench or the weighty, oppressive feeling of the air in that place.

Kurt had long known that some places seemed to retain an echo of the horrors that occurred there. These echoes resonated long after the humans who’d perpetrated the crimes had gone, like ghosts that haunted the air. This was one of those places.

She felt along the edge of the wall, reaching down behind a shelf. Somehow, she shifted the wood, and moved a false panel that she had obviously known was there. Inside, she found an old candy bar. Holding it in her hands, she looked at Kurt, presenting to him evidence that this was, indeed, the place.

He lowered, resting on his haunches next to her. “This is the orphanage?”

She nodded, still unable to answer. It was obvious she was feeling the impact of those echoes all around her.

“You want me to step out?” he asked.

She shook her head, “No. It’s okay.”  She sighed deeply and finally said, “I think I remember Ian. He was sweet…gentle. Too nice for this place.”

“Did he make it out?”

“I think so. I’m not really sure.” She stood, and said, “We need to see if there’s any other evidence. Any leads that may help us find him or the people who did this…or where I was taken after. Since we have my birth name, we can check immigration and adoption records back home. Maybe we’ll find him that way. Hopefully he came along to the States when I did.”

Jane went about her work. He wanted to reassure her and ask a million questions, but he knew she needed to focus and treat this like a case. They scoured the downstairs, finding a few animal bones and probably even some human bones, likely from very small children.

When there was a loud crash in the next room, he jumped in front of her, pushing her safely behind him and using his body as a shield. Realizing that the false panel she’d located in the next room simply fell, and there was no immediate threat, he relaxed.

“What the hell was that about?” Jane asked, knowing that he normally trusted her to take part in her own defense.

“Jumpy,” he answered.

“You’ve been watching me like a hawk all day. What’s going on?”

“Just watching your back. I’m sure this is hard for you,” he whispered, but she shook her head and went back to work, unable to discuss anything so serious at that moment.

Finally, in one room, she found another, larger, fake panel and tugged it open. Inside were several file boxes. Some papers were still intact. She found a few things that probably belonged to the children who’d been there. “We need to take all of this with us.”

“Agreed,” he answered. “The bones? I’d like to get them back to Patterson. She should be able to access missing persons records for this area. Maybe we can get some closure for families who never knew what happened.”

“Yea,” Jane agreed. “Obviously the evidence wouldn’t hold up in court, but we don’t really need it to,” she added, combining papers into one box and handing him an empty one. “Just put them in here.”

They spent a few hours there, and Weller couldn’t remember a place more oppressive and horrifying than this one. Every time he thought of Jane trapped there as a child, his heart ached with regret. There was nothing he could have done to protect her then, but he wished he could have anyway. While they were still there, he called Hark and arranged to transport the evidence, reminding him not to contact anyone in the FBI in case there was a leak, as Rich had suggested. Weller would personally contact Patterson to deliver the evidence.

“Let’s go back to Oregon and stay at Hark’s place for a few days before heading to New York,” he suggested nonchalantly.

“Why?” Jane asked stoically.

“I’m sure Lily would love to see you. Hark said she’s been asking about you. It would be a safe place to go through all of this. It will take a while to sort out all of the paperwork and organize the physical evidence before we can take it to Patterson. We need resources we don’t have here and I don’t think we’ll make much progress until we process everything we’ve found. Let’s go back, check records for Alice and Ian Kruger, get some answers, and then we can return if we need to. I’d like to try to set up a meet with Rich and see what else he knows.”

“You want me to talk to Hark,” she accused, appearing more detached than she had for quite a long time. “You think I need a shrink?”

“It might not hurt, if you want to. You don’t have to.”

She didn’t answer, taking a few moments to look around before they left. He found himself studying her nearly constantly, looking for some clue that might help him decipher his dreams. Suddenly she turned to him and asked impatiently, “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re…investigating me.”

“I’m worried about you, Jane.”

“Why? What did you remember?”

“I can’t tell if they’re just dreams or if they’re memories. Whatever happened to us…I feel like something was taken away. I can’t shake that.”

Her eyes widened and, from her reaction, he thought maybe she had recovered some of the same memories he had. He could see their shared pain reflected in each other’s eyes.

“Can we just finish up and get out of here?” she asked. “We can talk about this later.”

He let it go until they returned to their hotel. The boxes were stacked in one corner of the room, and Jane had barely said two words to him since they’d left the place she’d unfortunately once called home. When she was pacing, he stood, walked over to her, and tried to hug her. She pushed away, unwilling to let him close. “Sorry,” he grumbled.

“Not now,” she began, her expression harsh and unreachable.

He felt so hurt, so desperate to help her but unable to even try. At the same time, he needed to feel he was understood, too, that their loss was not his alone. Something about his expression got through to her. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, her hands raking through her hair as her devastation caught up with her. “I just—“

“You don’t have to explain.”

“But I do. I remember, Kurt. Not all of it, but enough. I was not a good kid when I was there. I did things… They were masters of turning us into these sadistic monsters.”

“I’ve told you a thousand times. It’s who you are now that counts. I know you, Jane. Probably better than anyone else. If this is part of who you are, I accept that. What they did to you…is far worse than anything you could have done as a result. You can’t blame yourself.”

“I can’t…I can’t believe I finally found it. That place…I just…I’ve dreamt of it so many times, but to see that it was real. I’ve always felt like at least I had some separation from that lifetime. The more we find out, the more it feels like part of my life instead of someone else's.”

He stood, not encouraging her to come closer, but with his arm opened casually so she could approach him when she was ready.

This time she leaned toward him, and he held her as tightly as he could. Her fists grabbed the fabric of his shirt, hanging on as her walls collapsed and she was left with the horrible realization that the visions she’d seen had actually been real moments of her life. These memories were worse than being found naked in Times Square, or being tortured by the CIA. He lifted her, carrying her to the bed and hanging onto her as adamantly as she held onto him, trying to assure himself and her that they were not alone.

Still gripping onto his shirt as if her existence depended on the connection, she looked into his eyes as she cried and fought to expel the anguish from her mind.

He assured, knowing it was really all he could offer at that moment, “You’ll get through this, and I’m here if you need me.”

“And everything from when we knew each other before? There’s so much I don’t know yet.”

“Maybe we can both talk to Hark and see if he can help us piece our memories together.”

Her one hand released his shirt and held his face before the other hand was brave enough to follow suit, like she couldn’t risk letting go completely. Holding him resolutely in her hands, she kissed him, dispensing with any tentative posturing and immediately slipping her tongue into his mouth and making sure the kiss clearly communicated her intentions. He could taste her tears as much as he felt her desperation as she reached for something certain, something that hadn’t changed.

She flopped back on the bed, pulling him over her like she wanted to be sheltered beneath him. Peeling away her skin tight jeans and panties all at once, he settled between her thighs. No matter how he moved, she held on in any and every way that she could, letting go only long enough to push his pants down from his hips after he’d unzipped them. As frenetic as things had begun, the pace slowed as he moved inside her and the act became more about the fusion of beings than physical release.

As the partition between the uncertainty of the past and the certainty of the present seemed to weaken, the younger woman that he’d _dreamt_ of loving and the woman beneath him whom he _knew_ he loved suddenly seemed to merge into one being in his conscious mind.

She froze when he tugged her earlobe between his teeth and breathed, “Remy,” as if he’d found her again.

He lifted up so he could see her face. He felt guilty, like he’d called her the wrong name even though he knew exactly who he was with. No matter what name, he adored the woman pressed against him, and no one else. “I’m sorry,” he offered, brushing his lips against her as he waited for a reaction. “I remember you…back then. I loved her…loved you…before you were Jane.”

Although he was prepared for her to throw him off her body and onto the floor, after a moment, she looked into his eyes and said, “I’m not mad. It just sounded strange.”

He was purposefully tender, whispering a promise of love that she returned. He wanted to be gentle with her heart as much as her body, but as the moment intensified, she started to insist that he move faster and harder, both through her words and the way her body moved against him. He couldn’t deny her, wanting to exercise some restraint but finding that his intentions were quickly being forgotten.

He came a few seconds after her, dropping heavily on her body for a minute before he tried to roll over on his side so she could breathe. She held him still, though, craving the weight of his body on her until he insisted that they roll. The coldness he felt as he withdrew from her body reminded him that they’d, yet again, ignored the precaution of a condom. They’d often been reckless, and as that thought bounced in his brain, he felt the sadness and loss from his dream hit him like a wave he’d foolishly turned his back toward.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yea,” he intentionally said with a smile.

“Are you sure?”

He wasn’t foolish enough to think that sex could cure their sadness, but he hadn’t expected his pain to mount like it was. He kept thinking of that orphanage they’d seen, of the life she’d probably experienced and the horrors she’d been a part of. On top of it all, he still felt the pain he’d carried since he woke that morning. His dream had left him feeling the loss of the moment she and their baby were ripped away from him like it was only yesterday.

He wanted to know if she remembered a pregnancy, or Orion, or the details of what had been done to them. Jane, for all of her strength, didn’t seem like she could carry much more weight after what she’d seen at the abandoned orphanage.

“I still want to go by Jane,” she said, reminding him that she was still awake. He turned to her, and she added, “In case you were wondering. That’s who I am now, so I’m keeping that name.”

“I didn’t intentionally say that,” he started, “I’ve been remembering more of the past, at least I think they’re memories, and—it was like those memories of who you were merged into who you are now.”

“What else do you remember?” she asked.

“We were hot and heavy then, too,” he replied, diverting her from more serious questions. “Whatever was going on between us…it was serious.”

“I got that impression, too. Kurt,” she said empathetically, “you look so depressed.”

“I think I let you down. Back then. I should have gotten you out of there sooner. I don’t know why I failed, but if I would have succeeded, I feel like some really horrible things wouldn’t have happened to you…to us. Maybe we wouldn’t have lost so much.”

She looked suspiciously at him, her eyes searching for signs on his face, and she asked, tentatively, “Lost what?”

“Just—just—you know.”

She sighed loudly, like she was already regretting her words before they came, “The pregnancy?”

He nodded subtly, “You remember.”

“Yea. I had a miscarriage. I think.”

“You didn’t just _have_ a miscarriage,” he argued. “I think the people who took our memories also terminated the pregnancy. It was intentional.”

She looked like she’d been hit. “Why didn’t you tell me you remembered?”

“You didn’t tell me either,” he reminded her. “Look, I’m just slowly piecing this all together. I didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

She moved, pulling him so he was spooning behind her. “We can go back to Oregon,” she said after some thought. “You’re right. We need to process all of the information we’ve found before we continue.”

“Good,” he answered with relief, his hand pressing against her tummy.

“At some point, we need to try to put together everything we know. Make a timeline. Maybe between your memories and mine, we can fill in the gaps and figure out what happened.”

“Are you ready to talk about all of that?” he asked.

“No. Not really. But I need to know. If someone took that away from us—,“ she choked on her words as he tightened his arm. “I was probably too young, and I would have been a horrible mother, but I still wish…”

“I wish too,” he added, not forcing her to verbalize what he already understood perfectly. “I wasn’t exactly father material, but I would have wanted to try. There’s a lot that I don’t know. But I know how I felt about you. I can still feel it.”

“We have to find the people who did this to us. They need to know they can't take anything away from us ever again. They need to pay.”

“When we go back…I need to go to New York and see my team.”

“You want to go alone?”

“No. Definitely not,” he insisted. “You need to be there, start building trust with them again.”

“I don’t think that’ll ever happen.”

“It might be slow, but it will come. And, while we’re in New York, I thought maybe you could bring your stuff to my place.”

“What?” she asked so stunned that she actually turned, lifted up on her elbow and waited for an explanation.

“Oh,” he answered quickly, looking wounded. “You don’t have to. I know things are moving kinda fast, but I just figured you’d want a place to call home and—“

“I don’t want to move in together so I have a place to call home. It’s a big step and—“

“You’re right. That’s not why I want you to move in,” he interrupted. “I want you to move in with me because I don’t want to live anywhere without you. We’ve lost too much time already.”

Her smile began slowly but turned to a grin as she nodded, “In that case, yea.”

“Good,” he grinned back, his face reddening, obviously relieved after putting his heart on the line.

“There’s only one problem with that part of the plan,” she said, “I don’t really have any stuff to move in. What you see is what you get.”

“Then we’ll buy you some stuff to move in. And I think I still have some of your things from the safe house. Problem solved,” he replied.

She curled up against him again. Their relationship challenged the landscape like an oasis in the desert, a comforting anomaly in a vast, harsh wasteland.


	14. Merged Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Merry Christmas and/or Hanukkah to all who celebrate! Sorry, I tried to have this finished up yesterday, but things were just too crazy around here. I hope you like it.

The next morning, Hark arrived at Jane and Kurt's hotel door. "You said you were concerned about an intel leak," Hark explained, "so I thought I'd come myself."

Jane genuinely liked Hark, but as much as she tried to act like she felt fine, it was a difficult pretense to uphold. He greeted her with a hug, one that she did not initially want, but found that his calm, quiet, almost paternal aura felt somewhat reassuring. Kurt and Hark loaded a van with their things and the boxes of evidence from the orphanage while Jane grabbed a quick shower before the long day of travel ahead.

After she was dressed, she peered through the heavy blackout curtains and saw Hark and Kurt talking outside. As the two men spoke, she could see the pall of sadness that hung over Kurt as he stood there. His shoulders were a bit slumped, his eyes weary, but he talked to his friend as if nothing were wrong. She also saw the way Hark watched, and she realized that he probably saw through Kurt's façade. The bond the two shared seemed quite deep, and Jane couldn't help but imagine that Hark was a lot like a father to Kurt as well as a mentor. After the traumatic and difficult relationship with his biological father, it was probably a very healthy connection for Kurt.

While she shoved the last of her clothes into her bag, she appreciated the concept of going home. Since Times Square, she'd never felt like anywhere was really "home," but a few days at Hark and Sadira's, and then the return to Kurt's apartment in NYC reminded her of what she thought going home should feel like.

As happy as she was to have finally found a few leads, she was ready to get out of South Africa. After hearing the story about her parents, seeing that damned orphanage, and remembering the things they'd remembered, this place felt like ground zero for so much of the pain and loss she'd experienced in her life.

She slung her pack over her shoulder and walked out to join the guys. Kurt immediately wrapped an arm around her and asked, "You ready?"

"Yea," she replied. "Definitely."

When they arrived at the tiny airstrip, he immediately took her hand again as they walked. It struck her that he was being, for him, quite demonstrative in front of someone as important to him as Hark. It almost felt as if they were emerging from the shadows and allowing the world to see that they were together, and that togetherness was both real and significant. She wondered how his team would take it if they saw the couple like this. She thought about Sarah and Sawyer, and also wondered if one day they'd feel like Jane was part of the family or if they'd always view her suspiciously.

"Jane?" Kurt asked worriedly, "you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, knowing that each time she was lost in thought, he was probably wondering which hell she was reliving through a dredged up memory. Softly chuckling, she answered, "I was actually just thinking."

Hark was working out details with the pilot, so they had a moment alone. "Memories?" Kurt asked.

"Actually, no. Thinking more about the future than the past," she replied.

He tilted his head as his eyes requested further explanation.

"I was thinking about you and me, and going home," she confessed.

"Good thoughts?"

"Yea. Good thoughts," she said, happily at first, then remembering some hurdles that faced them. "Are you going to let your team know that we're—you know—us?"

"I don't see a reason to lie," he immediately answered. "Lies seem to create more problems for us than they solve unless there's a compelling reason to keep it quiet."

"And what about your sister?"

"Same answer," he replied. "Why? You don't want them to know?"

"The opposite. I think…I want them to know. I'm not sure how they'll take it, but…I don't know," she trailed off.

"Tell me," he said, leaning against a half cement wall behind him as he patiently waited because he truly wanted to know what she was thinking.

"I'm glad we're together. A lot of really horrible things have happened in our lives. But you and me…that's definitely not horrible."

Pretending to be overwhelmed by the compliment, he smirked and replied sarcastically, "Wow…I'm not sure if a woman was ever nice enough to refer to me as 'not horrible'. My ego's gonna get way out of control."

She laughed softly and tugged his finger with hers, "You're so much more than just 'not horrible'. I meant that it finally feels like something good is happening."

"More than _not_ _horrible_ , hunh? I'll take that," he chuckled.

"You're amazing. You're a great agent and leader…and a great man. You're the only one I trust completely. It doesn't hurt that you're also _really_ sexy."

"Yeah, well…you're pretty damn hot and amazing yourself," he replied, looking away a bit shyly, his hand curling around her narrow waist.

They were silently flirting, their eyes making some pretty steamy suggestions when they heard Hark clear his throat, "You two gonna sit there doe-eyed all day or can we get outta here?"

"Absolutely," she said, taking Kurt's hand as they boarded the plane.

As much as flying made her nervous, Jane was grateful as the plane ascended and flew out over the ocean. The flight was seemingly endless, and the van ride back to Hark's felt even longer, but at least it was progress.

Kurt and Jane filled Hark in on some of the details. They explained Orion, and that they had been young and in love in a world they could barely remember. They mentioned the implants and possible testing to create stronger soldiers, but neither could seem to mention the pregnancy to Hark just yet. It was a detail too intimate and painful to share. They explained what they remembered of their memories being taken. "It wasn't like ZIP," Jane explained. "With ZIP I didn't remember anything from my life. It was all blank. After Orion, they somehow managed to remove parts, and from some of the things Kurt has said, it sounds like they replaced them with false memories."

Hark sighed, "It was probably a combination of methods. Likely they used some enhanced hypnosis to try to remove some of those memories and plant new ones. There were probably some drugs involved there, too. There were a few studies done on hypnosis and memory manipulation where a number of theories were thrown around. Since, overall, it's considered highly unethical, the studies are usually kept kind of quiet. If they were successful, there was also probably a period of reprogramming. You were likely inundated with the same planted stories and memories so often that they began to feel like the truth."

"Any way we can unlock all of those hidden memories?" Jane asked.

"That's an interesting question. Depending on the type of hypnosis and combined therapies, sometimes there is a sort of key to unlocking the past. Sometimes it's a word, a particular combination of stimuli…could be anything. Of course there's no guarantee."

"What do you mean a word or stimuli?" Kurt asked.

"Think about performance hypnosis. I mean this is obviously an oversimplified version, but some of the mechanisms would be the same. The hypnotizer can plant certain responses to stimuli…like 'when I snap my fingers, you'll bark like a dog' and then the one hypnotized performs those actions. Similarly you can tell them they'll wake up when they hear a certain sound or number. If you were hypnotized in that way, it would suggest that someone knew that possibly one day you could recover these memories."

"We've started to have them anyway," Jane admitted. "Certain things are coming back."

"What do you think prompted that?" Hark asked.

"Seeing the old Orion photos, being with Kurt, I think," Jane suggested.

"That makes some sense. It's also possible that bits and pieces of these memories have been poking through for years. Jane, for you it's additionally complicated because of the ZIP treatment a year ago, so even if you were recalling memories, you would have forgotten them again. If there are things that seem strangely familiar, or a scene you have in your mind but you can't quite place which book or movie it came from…even good old déjà vu…before, you might have written these things off as tricks of the mind. Now that you have more context, when those flashes occur, you know they might fit into reality."

"I've always had this—dream," Kurt said. "I realized later that it was probably Jane all along. Once I realized that, she was telling me about some memories she had and then more memories came. Mine seem to come more from dreams, when I'm sleeping. Jane's seem to come more as flashes when she's awake. We're trying to put them all together."

"I'd suggest writing any incidents down on index cards, not in a notebook. You might not know the exact sequence now and you might be able to add in more detail or shift things around as you figure it all out."

"That's a good idea," Jane replied.

"I'll be happy to help if you need my assistance," Hark offered.

* * *

When they finally made it to Hark's home, it felt like they'd been gone for years. Lily ran to Jane and leaped into the air to hug her. The child's exuberance transferred slightly to Jane, in spite of her tiredness. Lily even hopped into Kurt's arms for a moment before she returned to her dear "aunt" and began to speak nonstop. Lily seemed to believe Jane needed to know every detail that had happened in her absence except the most significant one.

Kurt saw Sadira walk down the hall, smiling at him as she came into the room. His heart sank a bit as he realized she was holding her newborn baby. He wished he'd had a chance to tell Hark about their lost child because he was worried that seeing the infant would hurt Jane.

Sadira handed the baby to Kurt without even asking if he wanted to hold it. He was about to argue when he said, "He's so light. I don't remember Sawyer being this small."

"He probably wasn't," Sadira said. "Mika was born a little early, just under five pounds. So far though, he's strong and healthy."

The baby's tiny fists flung through the air until he grabbed Kurt's pinkie and paused for a second. The greyish blue baby-colored eyes moved just a bit, searching for something to come into focus. "Congratulations, both of you," Kurt said, looking at Jane a few times to see if she was alright. She was still listening to Lily, who was telling her all about the responsibilities of being a big sister.

Lily said to Kurt, "It's Aunt Jane's turn to meet him."

"It's okay," Jane said. "I can hold him later."

"Don't be scared. I can show you how to hold him so you won't break him," Lily offered.

Jane smirked at the girl's offer and slowly approached Kurt. He started to extend his arms to hand the bundle to her, and she said, "I don't even remember ever holding a baby. Maybe I should wait until he's bigger."

Lily took Jane to the sofa so she could sit down and shoved a little throw pillow under Jane's arm. "It's easy. Now…," Lily instructed with tons of childlike authority, "hold his head or it'll flop and go crrrrrk," she said, making a cracking sound and tilting her head like she had a broken neck. "And try not to let him roll off, but he doesn't move much. And mom says to be really gentle."

Kurt carried the baby over and stood in front of Jane. "You don't have to hold him," Kurt whispered.

"It's fine," she smiled and nodded, trying to assure him. He gently placed the child in her arms and she said to Lily, "Wow. He is really, really tiny!"

"He's a freebie," Lily announced.

"Preemie," Sadira corrected.

"He's adorable," Jane said to Sadira and Hark. "I am so happy for you both. And you too, Lily. You're a big sister now, and that sounds like a very important job."

"I'm really good at it," Lily responded.

Jane held little Mika for a while, appearing more at ease than Kurt would have suspected. Kurt didn't have trouble holding the baby, but it surprised him how sad it made him feel to watch Jane holding one. Hark pulled his friend aside and handed him a drink, waiting for Kurt to unburden his mind, but never expressly asking him to speak. "Jane was pregnant. We lost the baby. Or, more specifically, it was taken," Kurt quickly whispered.

Hark tilted his head and put his glass down on the table, "You should have told me. While you were in Africa?"

"No, no," Kurt replied. "When we were younger…while we were with Orion. We're just putting it all together."

Hark sighed, "I know you dislike the very idea of therapy, but there's a lot of baggage here that should at least be acknowledged."

"I'll ask her if she's willing to try it."

"That's fine, but I was referring to you."

"Me?" Kurt said, defensively, "I'm just fine. She was the one who went through all that. I'm just the guy. It's not the same."

Hark shook his head and chuckled, "You remember the Derby Day Switch? That case right after you joined the FBI."

"Yea," Kurt smiled and nodded, "my first big break."

"That was really brilliant…the way you figured that out. A stroke of genius."

Kurt nodded, "I'm still pretty proud of that one."

"How is it that a man intelligent enough to figure out the Derby Day Switch can also be clueless enough to think the loss of a child doesn't affect him that much because he's 'just the guy'? Certainly it isn't the same physical experience, but the emotional one can be just as difficult. You lost exactly the same thing she did. It adds to this feeling of abandonment that you've been carrying since—"

"Abandonment?" Kurt huffed. "I do not have a feeling of abandonment."

"If you don't, it's a miracle. The father you looked up to abandoned you to become a monster you loathed…yea, his physical body was present, but the man who occupied the embodiment of _father_ was no longer with you. You lost your closest friend at a tender age. The mother you loved left you with someone you hated and distrusted. Then, if your memories are correct, you lost the first woman you were probably really in love with. These people may not have all chosen to abandon you, but you were impacted when they were no longer in your life. These things were important to you, and then taken away. All of these things happened outside of your control. The pregnancy, again in circumstances out of your control…led to yet another loss."

The sound of Lily giggling caught the men's attention. When they looked, Jane was cradling the baby and whispering something to Lily that the little girl thought was absolutely hysterical. As awkward as she'd initially seemed, Jane was already becoming more comfortable with the child, just as she had warmed up to Lily.

Hark spoke softly, "You've both been through so much. You're perfectly comfortable with playing the part of the dependable man that people can count on. You need to become comfortable with the fact that _you_ also need someone dependable to count on. She's strong…you can lean on her sometimes. I promise…she can handle it."

"She's been through a lot," Kurt replied.

"You've been through a lot, too. If you keep your walls up so you can be the impenetrable strong man, those walls will keep her out too. I like this woman. You're a good match. It's hard to find the right person. Once you do, you have to hold on with everything you've got."

Kurt overheard Sadira say, "I believe this is for you…"

She was sitting on the sofa next to Jane, looking at a laptop. Jane faced the screen, and Weller could hear a familiar voice. "Did you talk to the bosses yet, 'cause things are getting a bit heated out here," Rich said.

Jane handed the infant to Sadira, who took both children from the room. "We just got back. How did you find us?"

"It amazes me how often I have to prove to you how much smarter I am. Is Stubbles around, or is this little cyber session just you and me?" Rich asked.

"I'm here," Kurt said, taking a seat next to Jane.

"So…do I have a deal yet?" Rich pushed.

"I told you, I don't know if I can get you a deal."

"It's like I have to do everything. Here, show these to the mindless suit currently in charge," Rich said, images flashing up on the screen showing the new director in several very compromising positions. "I can get information no one else can. The FBI needs me. You need me."

"I'll see what I can do," Kurt replied. "We're going back to New York in a few days. How do I know that you can help us?"

Rich smiled cockily, "I'm not sure if you really doubt me or if you're trying to goad me into revealing more, but how's this? I can help you recover those pesky little memories…and it isn't even that difficult. You're the puzzles, I'm the decoder. You want answers…I know how to get them. Also I have this lovely piece of paper that I think you both really want to see." He held up an aged, tri-folded paper to tempt them.

"What is it?" Jane asked.

"No way," Rich answered. "Get me a deal and the paper is yours. You have one week."

* * *

— **Late May 2003-Secret US Military Training Camp somewhere in Eastern Europe** —

_After what happened to Connors and Owens, Weller began laying the groundwork to get them out of the Orion camp. He wanted to find a place to hide out for a few days after they left where they wouldn't be found. From that base, they could work on getting far, far away. He knew they would have to move fast once they committed to going AWOL, and he didn't want to make a mistake that could cost them their lives._

_He watched while a few other members of the squad started to show symptoms of a break just as Connors had. Weller found Johnson sobbing in his bunk one night, mumbling to himself after getting into several fights during the day. In the morning when they woke, they found Johnson had hung himself in the courtyard. A few days later, two more men were beginning to show signs of elevated anger and depression, as well as mumbling to themselves. This situation was getting worse each day, and Kurt could practically hear the seconds ticking away._

_Nearly a week later, Remy snuck into Kurt's shower stall in the morning, dropping down onto her knees and going down on him. He halfheartedly asked her to reconsider, but she was a master of persuasion and he didn't really want her to stop._

_As much as he'd enjoyed it at the moment, once the thrill was gone and he was thinking clearly again, he knew what a horribly risky move that had been, and how easily they could have been caught. They were trying to keep their relationship secret, although he was certain that most of the other soldiers were suspicious. Normally Remy chose the risks she was willing to take very carefully, so he was surprised at her brazenness._

_While waiting for lunch, she got in an argument with two of the other guys in line and seemed to react with uncharacteristic fervor. The more he watched her, the more he realized she seemed more emotional and less controlled, just as the other soldiers had been before their breakdowns._

_The next day, he found her lying in bed sleeping during lunch, and even while she slept she looked inordinately anxious, and he was certain she was tumbling toward depression. He knew he couldn't stand idly by while she descended into madness, so he called her to the gym to talk. As much as he hoped she was just going through a rough patch, he was deeply concerned that she was going to lose her mind just as Connors and Johnson had. If she was starting down that slide to insanity, he needed to figure out how to stop it._

_When he got to the gym, she was already there, waiting to ambush him as she often had. Suddenly she was playful and ready for a fight, but the sharp change in her mood didn't reassure him. If anything, it further convinced him that she was falling victim to the phenomenon the two of them had somewhat flippantly coined "Orion Syndrome."_

_She certainly didn't seem to be suffering from a lack of coordination, because she pretty quickly overtook him and had him on the ground. "You didn't really call me here to talk, did you?" she teased. "You were way too easy to take down. Or maybe I'm just that much better than you."_

_"We do need to talk," he replied soberly._

_She leaned down to his face and said, "We'll talk later. You owe me, and now you're going to pay."_

_"I owe you? For what?"_

_She took his hand and pushed it into her pants, pressing his fingers against her sex. "For yesterday morning, in the shower. If you've forgotten already I really have to work on my technique."_

_"Your technique is perfect," he rasped, his voice sounding almost an octave lower, "I loved it. But that was so—," he paused, turning his arm to reach her better before his eyes fluttered up, "you're so damn wet." He always found her harder to resist when the simple thought of him seemed to arouse her so much. The tremendous magnetism of their mutual desire was part of what made their relationship so alluring._

_"I've been thinking about you," she enticed._

_"We should talk and—uhh—god, you're making it really hard to concentrate."_

_"I'm a talented woman," she snickered._

_"Believe me, I know," he replied as she slipped out of her pants and snaked up his body until she straddled his face. She grabbed what little hair she could on the top of his head and pulled him toward her._

_She ordered him in exquisite detail exactly how she wanted to be touched. She was bold and insistent, and practically insatiable. He loved the way she knew what she wanted and made sure he knew, too. She also didn't hesitate to let him know how much she was enjoying his efforts to meet her demands. It was this encounter that would fuel a fantasy in him for years to come. She was the very embodiment of a beautiful, strong, sensual woman, and he suspected even then that he'd never meet anyone who would drive him as wild as she did._

_Once they were finished, he was practically mumbling on the floor, so she taunted, "Still think we need to talk?"_

_"Yea, Remy," he said, sitting up and putting a little space between them. "This isn't a joke. I really need to say this and I need you to listen to—"_

_"Wait, are you ending this?" she asked, stunned, her eyes actually looking a little red._

_"No! Hell no, sweetheart. Not even close. I'm seeing signs…signs that make me a bit concerned about your behavior and I think—"_

_"You think what?" she asked, standing and fixing her displaced clothes before she went and leaned against the ropes around the ring. "You seemed okay with my behavior a few minutes ago."_

_"You're really hard for me to say no to," he replied, standing and fixing his clothes as well. "I like your current level of—umm—enthusiasm. Believe me, once we get out of here, I will be completely at your service, but you have to admit you've been a little different these past few days. You're more erratic, taking unnecessary risks, you're more emotional than normal—"_

_"God," she groaned, crossing her arms. "It's noticeable?"_

_"Yea. I mean, it's not bad yet, but I think whatever happened to Connors and Johnson is happening to you. We need to get you out of here and get that implant out, safely. Maybe we'll get you to a doctor and see if we can do something to help get you back to normal. There's gotta be a way to counteract whatever they're doing…some sort of antidote."_

_"I was really hoping we wouldn't have to have this conversation yet," she muttered, almost talking to herself._

_"It's going to be okay. I'll get you out of here, but I don't think we can wait for the right moment any longer. We need to leave tonight."_

_"Weller, listen…the implant is not making me crazy," she assured._

_"I know you don't think it is, but I've been watching you and—"_

_"That's not what's going on," she answered, sounding completely convinced._

_"What makes you so sure?"_

_Taking a slow, steadying breath, she looked at him and said as calmly as possible, "Listen…Kurt, I need to talk to you."_

_"You can always talk to me."_

_"I'm pregnant. I'm not asking for anything or trying to trap you. I can handle it myself. But that's how I know it isn't the implant that's making me act a bit different. It's just pregnancy hormones."_

_His jaw literally dropped as he stared in silence. "Are you serious?"_

_"Completely. I wanted to wait a few weeks and see what happened. Obviously the implants aren't birth control…if they are, they're really ineffective. Which begs the question—"_

_"What are they really using them for," he said, finishing her sentence._

_"Exactly. But, like I said, I can handle this on my own."_

_"The hell you will," he countered, grinning even though he was trying not to. "You don't have to handle it alone. I'm here. Just tell me what you need."_

_"Nothing, right now. I need to figure out what I'm…what we're going to do. I should have been more careful."_

_"Are you thinking about keeping it?"_

_"Yea. Thinking about it."_

_He nodded, taking a minute before he wrapped her in his arms and lifted her off the ground, "This is so cool."_

_"It is?" she smiled back, stunned. "Are you serious?"_

_"I think it's great news."_

_"Okay. That is not what I'd expected at all."_

_"What did you expect?"_

_"I don't know. You seem to like to be in control…to plan out everything. This is really the definition of unplanned."_

_"It is, but I love you. I want this. I was hoping to leave tonight, but we need to find an obstetrician we can trust to make sure everything's alright with both of you. Tomorrow we'll take a few trips down to the meetup spot about seven klicks southeast of here. Let's try to get a few days of rations, extra ammo and at least another firearm each. I want to travel light, but smart."_

_"Agreed."_

_"Tomorrow, we'll leave before first light and get one run in before drills. Wait," he suddenly paused, "maybe I'll make the run myself. Is it even safe for you to go that far?"_

_"I'll be fine. I can handle a simple run."_


	15. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-I'm so sorry this chapter took me so long. This last week was much busier than I'd anticipated. Anyway, thanks for your patience. I'm so ready for tomorrow night...anyone else feel like this hiatus has been going on for YEARS?

Hark setup a secure video conference with the Director of the FBI, Lawrence Nelson. Director Nelson clearly held some ill-will for Hark, and seemed displeased that he had to spend some of his day conversing with his one-time coworker.

"You said it was important, Dr. Harkin," Nelson sneered. "You have fifteen minutes, so get to the point."

"I found some friends of yours," Hark said as Kurt sat down next to him.

"Special Agent Weller," Nelson said, practically rolling his eyes. "I don't believe we have any business to discuss until you've been evaluated and reinstated. Besides, I have more important matters to attend to than staffing at the NYO."

"I thought you might say that," Weller replied, "but I have a different plan in mind."

"What's that?" Nelson nearly chuckled.

"I want Dr. Harkin to evaluate me and provide you with a report. Then I want you to give me my old job back, with my whole team intact. I also want the tattoo cases reopened."

Nelson sat back in his chair, tapping his pen in an attempt to look nonchalant. "Anything else, Special Agent Weller? Want to tack on your own private jet and a million dollars while you're asking for things that you'll never get?" he snidely asked.

"A few more things," Kurt added, self-assuredly. "I want Jane Doe back as a consultant, full-time, with my team. We need her to work the tattoo cases."

"Well, even if I were feeling generous, I have no idea where Ms. Doe is."

"I've got that covered," Kurt replied, gesturing for Jane to approach.

"I'm here," she said, awkwardly.

Nelson looked a bit more nervous, and said, "She shows up out of the blue and you're not at all suspicious, Weller?"

"She didn't show up. I located her. She was being tortured by the CIA, but I think you know that."

Unconvincingly, Nelson answered, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Why in the hell would I do this for you?"

Weller switched the camera display and began flashing up the evidence against Nelson that Rich had provided them. After a few minutes, Kurt changed the display back to the camera and asked, "Do I have your attention?"

Nelson, gritting his teeth, said, "Where did you get that?"

"That actually leads me to my final request. We need one more person on our team. Rich Dotcom got us this intel. He's a valuable resource that has access to sources that we don't have."

"You want me to bring in a wanted fugitive and give him a job at the Bureau?"

"Under careful surveillance, in a closely monitored consultant capacity, yes," Kurt responded. "He'll need our protection, so I think that will make him more cooperative." Nelson hesitated, so Kurt added, "I have—let me check—yea, I have about thirteen more minutes of that footage Dotcom gave us. Want me to play it for you while you consider my offer?"

"That won't be necessary," Nelson said. "I'm going to need some time. This won't be easy to put into place."

"Sure. One week," Weller offered.

"I need at least a month."

"Two weeks," Kurt countered, "and that's my last offer."

"I'm going to require evaluations on you and Jane if you want to return. I can send out a—"

"Dr. Harkin is still a licensed psychiatrist, trained by the FBI, frequently used as a consultant and expert witness. I think he should suffice," Kurt answered.

"Fine," Nelson said, beads of sweat visible along his forehead. "Bring Dotcom and Jane Doe to my office as soon as possible. I will take them into custody and keep them in a safe place until preparations are made…for their own protection."

"Not a chance," Weller said, "Jane will come in when I do. I'll be in touch with Rich and let you know when he'll be joining us."

"There are some people who are going to question your judgment. You've chosen criminals as partners. You don't think their actions have been, at the least, questionable?"

"Maybe. But not half as bad as the stuff you've done," Jane answered right before Kurt ended the call.

"That went well," Kurt said.

"I guess," Jane answered.

"Now we wait until Rich contacts us."

* * *

Kurt wasn't sure if she was happy about the progress that had been made or if something else had happened, but Jane seemed a little lighter in the hours that followed. He enjoyed seeing her in situations that weren't life threatening. She was the only thing that made him imagine a life apart from his duties and career at the FBI, and seeing her in such a domestic situation made it easier to imagine and harder to disavow.

He and Jane offered to watch the children so Sadira and Hark could get some much needed rest. After getting Lily and Mika ready for bed, Jane read them a story. When she didn't return after a half-hour, Kurt decided to see if she needed assistance. She was sitting on the floor in a reading corner in Lily's room, leaning back against a pile of pillows with two sleeping children in her arms. "Need help?" he asked.

"I don't know which one to move," she admitted.

Kurt took Mika, who was closest to him, and rocked the baby when he seemed like he may wake. Jane placed Lily in her bed, shoving the plush toys to one side to make room before covering her with her blankets and brushing the hair back from her face.

Kurt and Jane crept to Mika's room. Kurt continued to sway next to the crib to be certain the baby was asleep before putting him down. Jane stood near, watching the scene. "It's weird…when you hold a baby you almost look innocent," she whispered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he chuckled.

"It's out of context compared to how I usually see you. In a good way. You have to admit, since we've met, it's been pretty much one intense situation after another."

"I can't argue with that."

They were quiet for a few moments, and Kurt finally placed the baby in his crib and turned down the light. They both stared at the boy, and Jane said, "What do you think is on that paper? The one Rich had?"

"I don't know. What do you think it is?" he asked.

"Looked official. Maybe a birth certificate. Mine…or…" she trailed off.

"Or what?"

"Kurt, what if our baby survived?"

"You know it didn't," Kurt answered, louder than he should have before he lowered his voice. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up. We both know how that ended."

"I know," she admitted. "I guess it was stupid to even—"

"Hey," he interrupted. "It's not stupid. It's just better to accept the truth."

"I know…I remember. How it felt. The way my entire life was left in ruin. I lost everything in a few hours. But seeing that paper made me think about it. You know even if our baby had survived, he or she would probably be twelve or thirteen by now. We wouldn't even know them. We would have missed everything."

"We will find the people who did this," he said.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. Every molecule of his being wanted to tell her not to be sad. They could find a way to make it better. Impulsively, he almost told her they could try again. He wanted to tell her they could have another baby to love and protect together. He held her quietly, though, and didn't say any of those things he was thinking. They hadn't been together that long, in fact, he wasn't even sure how to define the length of their relationship anymore. She would probably think he was insane for even suggesting it at such an early stage. Even he thought it was insane. Above all, he knew another baby, or two babies, or a hundred babies, would never fix what had happened to them. He sighed as he realized maybe he was trying to cure his own sadness as much as hers.

* * *

A video call came in from Rich later that night. Just as Jane was about to tell him about the conversation with Director Nelson, Rich said, "I know. Nice work, Janey."

"The things you know…" Jane commented. "Why do you want to work with us when you can do pretty much whatever you want already?"

"Besides the opportunity to work with you and Stubbles every day? Sounds fun, doesn't it?" Rich asked. Seeing the unamused expression on Jane's face, he added, "I need the protection. Also, good guys and bad guys…it all depends on who's making the rules. I figured, why not do the same things I do now and be treated like a hero?"

"We don't do the same things," Kurt argued.

"It's not as different as you like to tell yourself," Rich countered. "But, I doubt anything I say will get through that close-minded lawman mentality of yours. So…let's discuss details. You two head back to New York. In exactly one week, I'll contact you and give you a meeting place."

"How about we set the meeting place?" Kurt offered.

"I don't think so. I name the place. If you show up as agreed, without any complications, double-crosses, or uninvited guests, I help you retrieve your memories. Do we have a deal?"

Kurt and Jane exchanged glances, each nodding before Jane replied, "It's a deal."

"Talk to you soon," Rich said, reaching overtly toward the monitor, supposedly to end the call.

"Wait," Jane argued. "You promised to show us that document. Something you said we'd want to see."

"You know I almost forgot," Rich replied looking innocently up into the air as he fiddled with the hairs at the end of his beard.

"Sure you did," Kurt argued.

Rich took the paper, making quite a display of unfolding each piece and skimming over the words. "I really think he should take your name? Don't you?" Jane and Kurt's expressions showed their bewilderment, but they watched as he turned the document to the camera. Before bringing it close enough for them to see, he added, "Just promise me you'll never be _Jane Weller. Doe_ is way too badass to give up, and a woman like you deserves a badass name."

They stared at the document, a certificate of marriage from a church in the Czech Republic with both of their signatures, or, more accurately, Kurt and Remy's signatures.

"I'm not really sure if it's legal, but clearly you held the ceremony," Rich admitted. "Nothing was ever filed in the States. Besides, you used your old name. Interesting though, right?"

"Where did you find that?" Jane asked, her voice raspier than normal as she still looked stunned.

"I can find anything."

"How do we know it's real?" Kurt asked.

"You can follow up with the church and this priest if you want to, but first we get settled back at your…at _our_ ," he corrected, "field office. After we're settled, I'll give you the contact info and you can proceed, but for now, I'm hanging onto this little piece of leverage. Wow, you two really look confused. Is this weird? Did I make things awkward?"

"It's not awkward," Kurt snapped.

"Just…unexpected," Jane added.

"Well, now that I've dropped that truth bomb, I'm going to leave the two of you alone to sit in silence and gaze uncomfortably at each other…or however you want to handle it. Talk to you in one week."

The screen went blank and Kurt and Jane both sat in thundering silence. "It doesn't really mean anything," Jane said quietly. "That was a different life for both of us."

"Yeah," he answered contritely. "Jane, I had no idea."

"Why do you look so guilty?"

"I don't know," he chuckled. "I just…this is definitely a new situation for me."

"Are you panicking?"

"Probably a little," he admitted, looking away.

"Nothing to panic about. If it's legal, which I doubt it is, I'm sure we can get an annulment."

He stopped, his brow furrowed with thought as he contemplated her words. Finally, after pausing for a suspiciously long time, he said, "Yea."

"What is it?" she asked, feeling that more was going on than he was admitting.

"Nothing. You're right," he smiled too intently. After a thought struck him, he said, "I'm sorry it wasn't a birth certificate. Probably really disappointing to—"

"Not disappointing," she said sincerely, taking his hand. "Even if that marriage isn't legal, it's almost…I don't know. We've obviously meant a lot to each other for a very long time. It's kind of romantic, in a weird amnesiac way. But I'm not going to hold you to vows you don't even remember making. I know how you feel about marriage."

"You do?" he questioned.

"Yea. You're not interested in marriage…remember? You're too choosy," she smirked remembering their first undercover mission where they met Rich.

He drummed his thumb against the table a few times before he said, "I didn't mean I was against the institution. I meant it would have to be with the right woman." For someone who was so often avoidant in matters like these, his raw stare was almost intimidating to her. Then he added, "Maybe some part of me knew I already belonged to someone."

Jane didn't even know how to respond. Initially she'd suspected that he was terrified over the thought of being married, but now he'd said just enough to make her question how he really felt. Just as she was about to ask him to clarify, he added, "No judge in the world would deny an annulment under these circumstances. We'll keep it between us and take care of it quietly."

"Okay," she nearly stuttered.

Standing, he replied, "I'll let Hark know we need to head back. Leave in two days?"

"Sure, yea."

* * *

— **Late May 2003-Secret US Military Training Camp somewhere in Eastern Europe** —

_Kurt and Remy's plan to carry supplies to the drop point was derailed. At three in the morning, all of the lights came on in the barracks as alarms sounded. The remaining soldiers quickly readied themselves and ran to the helipad as instructed. Everyone was asking Weller what was going on, but he did not have any more information than they did._

_They flew for nearly an hour before the team was lowered into a wooded clearing. Weller received orders through his earpiece and positioned the soldiers according to those orders. Everyone waited, armed and ready, to find out what mission they were supposed to carry out. He received a message that he alone could hear, and he stood, stunned, as he listened to McKinley._

_"You are the only member of your squad with live ammo," McKinley coldly stated. "They need to be taken care of. They're sick, all dangerous, and they must be dealt with."_

_"Sir?" Weller asked, holding his earpiece tighter against his ear to be sure he was hearing clearly. "Say again."_

_"Orion was a failure. Exterminate the squad. Place the bodies in the center of the clearing. When we have confirmation that you've followed orders, we'll pick you up."_

_Weller thought he was going to vomit. He never thought he'd be called upon to do something like this. "Uh—Yes, sir," he said, his voice lacking certainty._

_"Do it, Sergeant Weller, or we'll send in air support and you can die with the rest of them."_

_Weller knew that they probably planned to kill him, even if he followed orders. He gulped, able to see Remy's shadow. He could see the details of her features in his mind's eye, the way she looked at him, and he couldn't squash the protective instinct he had for her. Then he thought of their baby, more specifically, he imaged a daughter or a son, and when he thought of them in those terms, he knew he had to get both of them out alive, no matter what the cost._

_Weller started to fire, shooting in the general direction of his squad members, careful not to hit them. He ran to Ruiz first. Weller took his blade and cut a gash in Ruiz's arm, quietly ordering him to smear blood on his face and shirt, and told him to explain the plan to the others. Firing erratically to give the impression that he was carrying out orders, Weller damaged his com device and very quickly explained to Ruiz what he was about to do. "When you're done, I'm going to drag each of you out to the center clearing. As far as they know, you're all dead. That'll buy us all a little more time. You hear?"_

_"Yes, Sergeant," Ruiz said, nervously looking around. "What the hell is going on?"_

_"We all got fucked," Weller said, looking Ruiz in the eyes. "Orion, McKinley, all of it. That's all I've got time to tell you. Stay put until they circle around again to count bodies. After they're out of sight, you have to get the hell out of here. If they find out you're alive, they'll kill you."_

_"Thank you," Ruiz said, offering a firm handshake followed by a respectful salute._

_"Good luck," Weller replied. He went through the motions, keeping Remy tucked in the shadows much to her chagrin. He felt tremendous guilt leaving the rest of his soldiers, but he knew at least he'd given them a chance to survive. He couldn't follow orders and kill them all. They didn't deserve to die._

_Once the other soldiers were laid in the clearing, all playing dead, Weller heard the helicopter circling. As it left, he grabbed Remy's arm and they ran. He hadn't had a chance to tell her much about what was going on, but he made sure she knew they were running for their lives._

_They didn't have their supplies, and their plans were in ruin. He wondered how Shepherd would ever find them. They ran for the rest of the night and through the next day. They left their watches and all electronic gear behind, just in case they were being tracked. They knew their uniforms made them more identifiable, so they needed to ditch them._

_As they came across a farm, they found scarecrows wearing clothes that they were able to use over their own garments so they wouldn't be so recognizable as military. They walked the rest of the way to the nearest town. It wasn't a large city, but large enough to have an inn and stores, so at least they could hide out for a few days and plan their next step._

_They entered the restaurant at the base of the centuries old inn, and Remy spoke before Kurt could, asking the only marginally interested woman behind the counter for a table in the local language. Kurt and Remy sat, muscles aching and stomachs groaning, with a thirst he didn't ever remember feeling before in his life. "You speak Russian?" he asked._

" _It's Czech, actually," she nodded, turning her attention to the server as Kurt quickly gulped down a cup of tap water. He heard Remy ordering, silently acknowledging to himself that he would eat anything that was edible at this point. The conversation went on longer than what seemed normal, but by the end the server seemed much friendlier. After she left, Remy whispered to Kurt, "She's the owner. There's a room available and she's agreed to take Euros. I should have enough for a few days."_

_Besides their breakfast, Remy had ordered a few additional items that came in paper bags and the owner brought their key to the table._

_They climbed a creaky, narrow set of stairs that offered credibility to claims of the building's age, and walked down a dark hallway to get to their room. This room still opened with a key instead of the keycards that were often found in hotels._

_The room itself looked like a cramped study with a guest bed. It was very small, but had a place to rest and its own bathroom, so it was absolutely perfect to them. There were long shelves of books, mismatched wooden nightstands with delicate table lamps that were far more decorative than they were adept at illumination, and two rigid armchairs with elaborate upholstered patterns. The carpet and walls were dark, giving the room a warm and secure feeling._

_After settling for a moment, Remy said she was going to grab a quick bath. Kurt pried his remaining clothes from his body except for his shorts, sneering at the way his dirty, sweaty tee shirt nearly held its shape. He sat in one of the proper-looking chairs to wait._

_His body jerked as he began to drift off to sleep, and he wondered if Remy was okay. He called out to her, but she didn't answer, and the bathroom was so quiet that he immediately felt the need to investigate._ _He peered into the bathroom, seeing her body sunken down in the massive claw foot tub, one wrist draped delicately over the side. "Remy," he called, "you okay?"_

_Approaching carefully, he tapped her face, splashing her with water when she didn't move before he felt for a pulse. Her eyes fluttered open as she pulled her hand away and griped, "What the hell are you doing?"_

_"Are you alright?"_

_"Apart from fending off a crazy man? Yea. I was sleeping. I'm tired."_

_Kurt reached for the back of her head, pulling her in for a gentle kiss. She shared the kiss for a few moments before she pulled away and wrinkled her nose. Her sense of smell was incredibly heightened because of her pregnancy hormones, and she said, "You need a bath."_

_He stood, stepping out of his shorts and into the tub across from her, grinning as he replied, "Good idea."_

_"I didn't mean my bath," she argued, smirking in spite of herself._

_He dunked his head under the water, scrubbing his hair and two-day old beard with the shampoo that had been resting on the edge of the tub. Eyes still closed, he scowled as he said, "Flowers? I'm going to smell like fucking flowers?"_

_"It's the only shampoo they had," she answered, chuckling softly._

_Running his rough hand over his face to brush away the water, he peeked at her with one eye. He took in the view of her relaxing in the tub, his gaze plunging into the water to look at her and realizing for the first time that they were really on their own._

_"Shepherd was right, you know," Remy said, dragging her hand through the water and watching the ripples. "Emotional involvement makes us weaker."_

_"How so?" he defiantly retorted._

_"You think things would be this complicated if we hadn't gotten involved?"_

_"Probably. Orion would have failed either way. Why? You regret it?" he asked, trying to disguise his hurt._

_Studying his reaction for a moment, she shook her head, "Not for a second."_

_"Good," he answered with equal certainty._

" _But I have changed since we met. And so have you."_

_Once again, his thoughts went to her and the circumstances that brought them together. They were finally alone, naked in a tub where no one would interrupt them and they didn't have to hide. They could sleep next to each other. At the same time, he knew McKinley, and probably countless others, would try to find them and kill them. They still carried those implants, and he had no idea where they could go that would be safe. They were simultaneously freer than they ever had been, while still shackled to Orion and their recent past._

_She leaned back into the water, yawning as he saw the dark circles under her eyes. On top of all of the stress, both physical and emotional, she had endured all of it while pregnant. "Do you feel okay?" he asked. "Do you think they baby's okay?"_

_She joked, "You think a little jog is going to destroy a kid with our combined genes?"_

_Seeing that she was thoroughly exhausted and needed sleep, he hurriedly cleaned himself. A bit awkwardly, he asked, "Is it weird being pregnant? Does it feel different?"_

" _Not really," she admitted. "I'm tired as hell, and a bit queasy, but nothing I can't handle. It's not like it's kicking yet or moving around."_

" _We need to find a doctor that can check you out."_

" _Not tonight," she argued, sleepily. "We can deal with that tomorrow."_

_He got out of the tub, noticing that she'd already fallen asleep again. He felt strangely guilty for failing to take better care of her. She deserved more, so did his child. Lifting her out of the water, he loosely flung a towel over her and carried her to their room. She woke as he placed her on the bed and blotted the moisture from her skin. "What are you doing?" she asked, although she didn't stop him._

" _Going to bed," he answered, matter-of-factly._

_Seconds later she was softly snoring. He slid her under the crisp sheets before drying himself. After another glass of water, a beverage he'd never fully appreciated until that night, he got into bed next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and felt their bodies conform as they melded into one tired lump in the center of the bed. His hand pressed against her lower abdomen as he tried to tell if he could feel any change in her body. She wasn't showing yet, but he swore he could feel the tiniest bump if he really concentrated._

_During the preceding weeks, he'd imagined what their first night post-Orion would be like. They'd finally be alone. He'd thought of sex in a real bed where they didn't have to worry about volume or discovery, or against a wall where they didn't have to quickly dress afterwards, anywhere without the pall of Orion hanging over them. In any of his imaginings, he never thought they'd get a hotel, grab a bath and go straight to sleep. As much as he hadn't thought of this particular scenario, Remy's naked body pressed against his, her chest peacefully rising and falling with each breath, felt like the fulfillment of a fantasy he'd forgotten to dream._

 


	16. Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Flashback is largely adult, so skip to the end of the flashback if you don't like to read that sorta thing. Happy Blindspot Day!

Kurt retreated to their room almost immediately after discovering they had possibly been married over thirteen years ago. Jane could sense his frustration over those memories he'd forgotten, but she knew she'd hurt his feelings with her response. As much as he liked to appear impenetrable, when he was really wounded, she knew he felt it deeply. She had really misread the situation, trying to assuage his concerns over being tied down, but that wasn't the case; his reaction had made that perfectly clear. She had thought she had to walk a tightrope line to make sure he didn't feel trapped by decisions they'd made in a world they barely knew. She didn't want him to be forced into a relationship with her because of an accidental pregnancy or long-forgotten commitment.

She went to their room, finding him lying quietly on their bed, still fully clothed. Although he looked like he was sleeping, she knew him well enough to know he was not. She kicked off her shoes and got in bed, nuzzling up close to him. Resting her hand on his chest, she whispered, "I can tell you're awake."

His brow furrowed and he replied, gruffly, "I'm really tired, and I'd just like to get some sleep. It's been a long day."

"Are you pouting?" she asked, a gentle smile finding her lips.

"No," he retorted, his eyelids popping open as he shook his head to defy her suggestion. "I am not _pouting_. I told you…I'm tired."

"Okay. But I have a question…do you know why I still wear this?" she asked, showing him the ring she still wore on her finger that he'd bought her as part of their cover while they posed as a married couple in Africa.

"You forgot you were wearing it?"

"I didn't forget. Quite the opposite, actually. I notice it every day. I didn't _want_ to take it off. It feels like it belongs."

He looked at her, his expression softening slightly. "I'm not saying I _want_ to be married, but I wasn't horrified by it. You didn't even…give it any thought. I mean…if it's true, is it really that terrible to imagine?"

"No," she answered, her hand pressing firmly over his heart. "Not at all. I thought you were feeling trapped and I was trying to make you feel better. That's why I said that…so you wouldn't feel obligated. I was worried that if you felt trapped, you'd pull away from me."

He looked away, thinking but not yet ready to respond verbally.

"I'm not the only one who's still wearing a ring. Why do you keep yours on?" she asked.

"I got used to it," he answered a bit defiantly, then seemed to scold himself internally. Looking in her eyes, he added, "I didn't see…a decent reason to take it off."

"I don't want our lives together to be an accident, Kurt. I don't want to be a piece of the past that you're stuck with forever. You're a good man, and I think you take your obligations seriously. I don't want to force you into a relationship that you will grow to resent. I want you to be with me because…that's where you _want_ to be, not because it's where you _have_ to be. It's a strange situation…to be in a relationship that is both very new and very old at the same time, don't you think?"

"You think I feel trapped, Jane? Is that—is that really what you think?" `

"We've learned a lot about our history in a short amount of time, and you don't say much about…how you feel about all of it. It's a lot to take accept. What am I supposed to think? Maybe you feel guilty about our past. Maybe you feel like you owe me something because of what we were to each other before. I want you to choose to stay with me, knowing that you're not shackled to me. And I want you to know that I'm choosing you based on who you—who _we_ —are now."

"Why didn't you just say that?"

"Why didn't you tell me how you felt after Rich's little truth bomb?" she countered.

He looked prepared to defend himself with his answer, but shook his head. "I don't know. So you don't want us to feel obligated by the past, but what does that mean now, practically speaking? What do we do?"

"It means—,"she hesitated, wishing he'd be the first to confess his intentions. "It means that, for now, let's just be…us. No pressure. It's the same relationship we had before Rich showed us that paper. Maybe try to see if the marriage is legit. I like being with you. Our relationship…is so important to me. I don't want to mess it up. I really, really like what we have. Do you?"

He nodded his head, his eyes conveying the truth. "I do."

"Good," she smiled reassuringly. "So let's just wait and see what happens. And if you happen to meet another woman, fall madly in love and want to marry her, then I will do whatever it takes to get that annulment. You deserve to be happy. If you're going to be with me…be with me because you choose to, not because you have to."

"For the record, Jane…I have always been with you because I choose to. No matter what the circumstances surrounding it, it doesn't change how I feel. I am not trapped."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"If you meet someone, fall madly in love and want to marry him…I guess I'll help with that annulment, too," he replied. Thinking for a moment, he added with a cautious smile, "But I won't be happy about it."

She chuckled, "Okay."

He covered the hand that she'd placed on his chest, and then started to spin her ring on her finger. "Are you going to take this off before we go back to New York?"

"I wasn't going to. Do you want me to?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I like it on there."

A few days later, they were onboard a private jet to New York. The flight felt longer than it was as Jane waited and worried. As the plane rumbled to a final stop, Jane looked out the window and saw their team waiting for them. Jane had thought she and Kurt would have some time to settle in New York before meeting up with the team, but once she saw them, she knew they _had_ to be there to welcome him home. She knew each and every member of that team adored Kurt. They were probably eager to know what was going on as well. Patterson seemed a bit concerned, but mostly she looked intrigued and excited. Reade and Zapata stood stoically, arms crossed and faces unreadable. Part of Jane worried that one of them would shoot her on sight, or, even worse, perhaps, arrest her and turn her over to the CIA.

She felt Kurt take her wrist and slap a handcuff on it. "What the hell?" she asked, her own terror rising at the thought of repeating the hell she'd endured after the last time he'd arrested her.

"Relax, I'm not arresting you," he answered, as he also cuffed his wrist so they were bound to each other. "It's a precaution…make it a little harder for the CIA or anyone else to separate us. I don't want to take any chances."

"Oh," she answered, her head falling forward with relief and embarrassment at the thought that he'd turn on her.

"You can trust me, Jane. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

"Reade and Zapata…it will never be the same again."

"It will probably be different. But sometimes different is good. I trust you, and they'll learn to, too. Give them a chance to see what I see."

She wasn't sure how they were going to handle everything with the team. She wasn't sure what Kurt would tell them about their current relationship, their past relationship, or their activities as of late. He took her hand, smiling once, reassuringly. "We can handle this."

"Maybe I should give you some time with your team and meet up with you later," she offered.

"No—No way. Not a chance. We're going in _together._ We face this _together._ We are a team. I…will not take my eyes off of you. Understand?"

She nodded as the airplane door opened and bright light poured into the cabin. Before they stepped onto the stairs, he gave her a one-armed hug, planting a quick but supportive kiss on her forehead. Although they were still inside the plane, she knew the onlookers could see, and that Kurt had no intention of keeping their relationship hidden.

— **Early June 2003-Czech Republic** —

_Their little room at the inn in the Czech Republic was momentarily idyllic. When he woke in the morning, Remy was sitting on his thighs and started snacking on her breakfast. "Hungry?" she asked, seductively eating a strawberry._

" _Starving," he answered._

_As Kurt tried to take a piece of fruit from the plastic container that she'd placed on his abdomen, he realized she'd bound his hands. He grinned mischievously, "Didn't take you for the bondage type."_

" _I'm not the bondage type. Not really. I just felt like…playing. We don't have to rush, for once."_

" _You think I can't get out of this?" he questioned, testing the binds._

" _I'm sure you can," she replied. "But why would you want to?"_

_He dropped his arms, deciding to momentarily surrender to her because he knew that look in her eye. "Can I at least get a drink?"_

_She nodded, taking a bottle of water and drinking it herself. She grinned as she hummed at the sensation of her slaked thirst and he chuckled, "That's just mean."_

_She tilted the bottle, allowing a thin stream of water to drip into his mouth while some spilled. She lapped up the water that had fallen in rivulets down his neck and chest before she slinked up and grinned. "Do you know what people want most?"_

" _I have what I want most," he said with weighty sincerity._

_She felt the thorough heaviness of his words and seemed stunned out of her mission, but only for a second. Regaining her almost chronic composure, she continued, "People want what they can't have…the stuff that's just out of reach." Her fingers slipped seductively over his neck as she answered, feeling his eyes staring into her thoughts._

_She traced his collarbone, letting one finger follow the defined line down the center of his chest. She watched his challenge dither as his thoughts were redirected. The rest of her fingers fell down against his abdomen, the taut muscle covered with surprisingly soft skin. Lifting her fingers so only the tips contacted his body, she let her short nails scratch gently over him, watching his skin prickle as she tickled down to the patch of hair that trailed to his sex._

_He closed his eyes as he thought she was about to finally touch him where he really wanted her to, but even though she sighed approvingly, her hands weren't touching him. Still perched on his thighs, he peered through a slit in his eyelids, and he saw her taking a bite out of another strawberry. Not wanting to allow her to feel too victorious, he tried to play it cool. "You're right," he flippantly commented. "The thing I want most right now…is breakfast."_

_She grinned, pleased that he wasn't so easily controlled. "Where are my manners?" she asked. She pinched a blueberry, the very smallest piece of fruit in her container, between her teeth and leaned closer._

_Her lips were barely parted and she wasn't close enough for him to reach, as if her plan was to make him want every little bit he was given and to make it just little difficult to take. He lifted as she watched the muscles in his torso flex, and she felt just a bit flustered that she was so enticed by the shape and fitness of his body. Tilting his head, he flicked his tongue between her lips, dislodging the fruit and savoring it as if his only goal had been that morsel._

_Shaking her head, somewhat nonplussed by his stubbornness, she offered him a few bites of food without hesitation. "Giving up already?" he taunted._

" _Oh, god, no!" she smirked. "I'm just trying to treat my prisoner humanely. Plus…you're going to need your energy."_

_He perused her body, looking slowly over the curves and shapes before him, and he started to grin, "They're bigger," he noted, nodding toward her breasts._

" _Are they?" she asked, looking down._

" _Believe me, I know."_

" _They're more sensitive than normal," she whispered, "but if you're gentle, maybe I'll let you feel for yourself."_

_Her hands cupped the underside of her breasts, gently massaging them as her nipples became even more pronounced. His head dropped down into the pillow, his jaw a little slack as he watched with desirous interest._

" _You like that?" she asked, lifting off his thighs slightly so he could see her body. He nodded, quickly, without any verbal indication, but his admiration for her was undeniable. "Tell me what you want," she said._

_While she ran her hands down her sides and over her hips, he said, his voice as low as she'd ever heard it, "I want to touch you."_

_He didn't seem to feel the need to play it calm and cool anymore. She moved, allowing her thigh to very nearly brush his sex, just enough to remind him of how much she was withholding. His eyes fluttered slightly, but stayed trained on her as they recorded every sound, movement and sensation on his mental hard drive._

" _Did you forget your manners?" she questioned._

" _Must have. I want to touch you…right now," he practically ordered._

_She planted her palms on the headboard behind him, bringing her chest a bit closer, but just out of reach. He lunged forward, farther then she'd expected, and captured her nipple between his lips. She flinched just a bit at the rough way he tugged the turgid flesh into his mouth, and noting her reaction, he softened, gently caressing and swirling his tongue along the stiff pink peak. As much as she was sensitive to roughness, she felt pleasure with equal amplification, and moved closer to him without even willing her body to shift._

_A few times she noticed his arms try to close around her, and found that he frustrated easily at the idea that he wasn't able to do as he pleased, but that didn't change his gentle persistence and the love he was showing her with his mouth. After a few moments, hoping to keep her wits about her and stay in control of this passionate torment, she pulled away, sliding down his body, carefully lifting over his erection and returning to her spot straddling his thighs._

_She placed her hands on his hips, rubbing his abdomen and thighs and getting closer and closer to finally touching his manhood. Each time her hands moved, he watched with equal anticipation, hope never waning that the next touch would bring some relief._

" _You're really excited," she commented, looking at him as if he were on display for her._

" _Of course I am," he nearly scoffed. "You're so hot. You know how much I want you."_

" _I really want you inside me."_

" _I'm not stopping you. But if you want, you could untie these and give me a chance to help you catch up. I'm a gentleman, after all."_

" _I'm already turned on," she said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world._

" _Not so easy for guys to hide that fact."_

_She lifted up, her knees on the mattress on either side of his legs, offering more of a view. Her hands returned to her body, moving over her hips, and down to her inner thighs. She moved them steadily higher, allowing one hand to curl around her mound. He watched, both awestruck and ridiculously aroused, as her finger slipped between her folds and skated along the crevice. She moaned, rocking her hips forward ever so slightly. She could see his sex straining even harder, so aroused that that it was probably becoming physically uncomfortable. "I'm really turned on too," she purred._

" _You might be lying," he said, obviously playing this game. "Let me see."_

_She brought her finger toward his face, glistening with her fluids, and before she knew what to expect, he wrapped his lips around it, his tongue lapping up the taste of her. She wasn't sure how it was possible that it felt so good to have someone sucking on a finger, but it was making her crazy. Perhaps because she knew how wonderful it would feel if she were to climb up his body and let him put his face at the apex of her thighs._

_As she saw the cocky look on his face, she realized he was winning this little game of control even though he was the one restrained. She withdrew her hand, bringing it back to her body since he had seemed so allured by that act. While her hands returned to her inner thighs, she saw the smug look on his face morph into something more like envy._

" _Let me touch you," he demanded, irritated when he tugged involuntarily at his restraints and the knots tightened._

_She shifted lower, her palms pressing into his thighs and up to his hips as her mouth descended to his arousal. She took one long, lingering, enticing lick up the underside of his shaft, watching his eyes close while he tugged at his restraints. Her lips wrapped around him, and the low, satisfied groan that emanated from deep in his chest filled her with the satisfaction of a temptress he could not deny._

_The thundering need between her thighs was so loud that it was a distraction. Too much of a distraction, she realized when he flipped her under him. "Gotcha," he grinned as he pinned her hands to the bed._

" _Are you sure you won?" she teased. "Did you really want me to stop?"_

" _I can't let you have all the fun."_

_He saw her looking at her wrists, at the way they were trapped under his larger hands, and for a moment he wondered if some part of it truly scared her because of the violence of her childhood. She knew that, though, like she always seemed to read him so well, and lifted her head, bringing her lips to his while she snaked her legs around his hips, her toes brushing down the back of his calves._

_She was so overwhelmed by it all. The desperate need she felt clamoring at her core, his moment of concern even when he was so turned on, the lengths he'd taken to protect her, and she felt something that vaguely reminded her of dizziness. She lifted her hips, inviting him inside her, and he immediately accepted the invitation._

_He moved into her slowly, wringing out every bit of pleasure as their bodies joined. Her muscles were already throbbing around his member, and they groaned in unison as their desire was finally being satisfied. He paused once he was completely buried in her, kissing her passionately as their bodies were melded. "I love you," she whispered, her hips shifting before he was even ready to move, "god, I love you."_

_He paused, struck by the earnest sound of her words. "I love you too. I always will."_

_As unexpected as the moment of tenderness was, the end of the moment was just as swift. She lifted her hips to meet him and he could feel her body tighten. Letting go of her wrists, the fingers of his one hand threaded through her fingers as he held her hands still above her head. She could have pulled away, but she didn't want to do that. His free arm reached under her back to hold her body closer and angle her hips so she'd feel the most pleasure. And all reservations were lost. All thought vanished. All playfulness dissipated._

_He never wanted to leave the escape of her arms, or the pleasure he found in the depths of her body. He was racing to catch up, wanting to come with her. She started first, the sound of her cries triggering his release as they toppled over the edge._

_He was still inside her, her hands pulling free before her fingers tickled up his spine, and she placed a loving kiss on his chin. Flopping onto his back, he was so relaxed he almost looked inebriated. He grinned through his numbed state, his palm coming to rest on her ass and he said, "Marry me."_

" _You're insane," she said, trying to roll away until his arms kept her against him._

" _Probably. But I'm also sincere. Marry me."_

" _When you said you were going to ask me some day, I thought you had some kind of romantic, elaborate plan."_

" _Is that what you want?" he asked, honestly. "Something elaborate?"_

" _No," she admitted._

" _If I did something like that, you'd probably just laugh at me."_

_She chuckled, "No I wouldn't."_

" _I knew I would know when it felt right. And it does."_

" _That's the orgasm talking…not you."_

" _No…it's definitely me."_

" _You're serious?"_

" _How could you even ask that? After all we've been through, what we've done…you, and my—our—child…you deserve to know I'll be there. Besides, I'll never forgive myself if I let you get away. I never thought I'd want to get married. Since I do I figure…it must be for real."_

_She thought for a moment and said, "I never planned on marrying either. Or having kids, if I'm being totally honest."_

" _You didn't want kids?"_

" _I—I just never thought I'd be a very good mother. But I really, really want to try. I didn't think I wanted a husband either."_

" _You don't have to decide today," he said, the hurt peeking through his façade._

" _I didn't just want a husband…I didn't want just any man to fill that role. I want you. So I agree. Let's get married."_

_The love in their words didn't convey the truths they both feared. Neither of them were sure they'd survive the next few days. Both knew the possibility that they'd be found by McKinley or his drones, and if that happened, they'd probably be tortured or killed. Remy feared they still wanted her child, to turn that being that wasn't even fully formed yet into the ultimate killer. She'd rather die than sentence a child to a life like that…a childhood like she'd had._

_They were not getting married because they had to or because of antiquated traditions that made them feel they should. They were going to marry to try to hold on to this love that was new but yet somehow so strong. Or maybe they were getting married because they feared their time on this earth was limited. But they had to hold on while they could._

_Sensing her concern, and trying to ease his own anxiety, he said, "We're going to be okay."_

" _There's a rural doctor right outside of town. I'm going to make an appointment. It seemed like the safest option. Maybe she can see how this little guy is doing," Remy said, placing a hand on her belly. "Do you want to come along? You don't have to because I can handle it al—"_

" _I wouldn't miss it," he immediately interrupted. "I want to go to all of the appointments. We made that kid together. You don't have to handle anything alone any more. We're a team."_


	17. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-I believe there are four or five chapters left in this story. Thanks to everyone for your interest and support. I hope you still enjoy.

Jane and Kurt walked down the steps from the airplane to the tarmac, hand-in-hand. Patterson was the first to greet them, almost standing between them so she could hug them both at the same time. "Welcome back," she said, her eyes friendly and excited. "Did you hear? The tattoo cases were re-opened," she added, a twinkle in her eye over the volume of possible puzzles hidden in that ink.

"That's great," Kurt answered.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked Jane, a little more tentatively, but with complete sincerity.

"I'm fine," Jane said, nodding quickly.

Reade approached, shaking Kurt's hand and bumping his shoulder against his boss' in a pseudo-hug. "Good to see you, man."

He didn't exactly address Jane, but he wasn't hostile either.

Zapata hugged Kurt firmly, "I'm so glad you're finally here. You know we've got your back, right?"

"Absolutely," Kurt responded, somewhat confused by her statement.

In the next second, Zapata twisted Jane around in her arms and said, "Don't move. You're under arrest for—"

"What in the hell are you doing?" Kurt shouted.

As Jane broke free, Zapata kicked her to the ground, watching as Kurt was pulled down as well since they were still handcuffed to each other. "I know you think you can trust her," Zapata explained, "but let's at least get a lie detector and make sure she is who she says she is. She needs to be taken into custody until we're sure we're all safe. You're not thinking straight, so you need to trust your team to think for you."

Kurt looked down at the wrist that was bound to Jane's. The force with which they'd been pulled apart allowed the cuffs to dig into his flesh, and both he and Jane were bleeding from the altercation. "Tash, listen to me. You need to trust me. I know you felt betrayed after all that happened, but it is all explainable."

"What if she's playing you?" Zapata asked, her worry for her friend seeping through her words. "Do you have any idea how many people you're putting at risk?"

"She isn't playing me. But I'm prepared to accept the consequences for my choices." He gazed firmly at Zapata and said, "I know you're just looking out for me. But if you hurt her…you hurt me."

Jane looked at the angry scratches they had from their handcuffs, and knew Kurt was referring to more than just his wrist.

"Let's go somewhere so we can all talk," Kurt suggested. "We all need to become a team again."

"They're never going to let her back in again," Tasha said, calmly. "You do understand that, right?"

"Actually, they are," Jane answered. "We've made arrangements."

Tasha sighed, looking at both of them as if they'd lost their connection to reality.

They all went to Patterson's apartment. Jane was relieved to finally have the handcuff off, rubbing her sore skin where the shackle had chafed and abraded. For hours, Kurt and Jane explained what had happened to Jane in the past. Jane explained what the CIA had done to her, and the way she and Kurt traveled for days until they found Hark. They told them about their trip to Africa and the things they'd found while there, and that Rich was going to be helping them.

Tasha's anger seemed to ease, but her caution did not. Jane understood that, though. She really wasn't angry at Tasha, because Jane knew a lot of her caution was to protect the team, especially Kurt. In a world so dangerous, it was good that people were looking out for him. "You got married, didn't you?" Tasha asked.

"How did you know?" Kurt asked in return.

Jane held up her hand to remind him of the rings and Tasha answered, "Kurt, if you rushed into marriage, you definitely aren't yourself."

"It's kind of a long story," Jane replied.

"We have time," Reade answered, sitting back in the chair and folding his arms. "After all, that's why we're here, isn't it? So you can tell us the truth and clear the air?"

"We knew each other years ago," Kurt admitted.

"And you didn't tell us?" Reade asked, his own suspicion rising.

"He didn't know," Jane said. "Our memories were taken from us. We were both part of a secret government program, Orion. We still don't have all of the answers, but it seems we were a couple when we were much younger. We're not even sure if the marriage is binding, but it seems that was definitely our intention."

"How can you be sure this is all true?" Tasha asked.

"We're both recovering some memories on our own, and they seem to match up," Kurt replied. "Rich is going to help us unlock some more of them."

"You trust him?" Patterson asked.

"We don't have much of a choice," Jane countered. "But so far, everything he's told us checks out."

"That doesn't really explain the rings," Reade said. "Unless you've kept them all these years."

"Kurt bought them as part of our cover," Jane explained.

The remaining team looked at each other, coming to a quiet agreement. "So are the rings still part of your cover, or are you two together now?" Tasha asked.

Jane fell silent, uncertain as to how Kurt wanted to handle that particular question, but in his most authoritative voice, daring someone to challenge him, he answered, "Absolutely we're together. I've asked Jane to move in with me. I'll do what I can to answer your questions, and keep you informed, but if anyone does anything to intentionally hurt Jane or compromise her safety, I _will_ take it personally."

"When are you coming back to work?" Patterson asked.

"We're meeting Rich in a few days to recover our memories," Jane answered.

"And after that, once we get Rich an official consultant's position, we'll start work immediately. As you've already heard, the tattoo cases will officially be re-opened," Kurt added.

For the first time, Tasha gave a full smile, a look of victory soaking her expression as she replied, "How did you pull that off?"

"Rich," Kurt answered.

"I really missed working those cases," Tasha answered.

"I have a few ideas already," Patterson added happily.

"It has been pretty boring without them," Reade added.

Kurt's phone rang and he stepped away, leaving Jane with the three members of the team.

"Look," Tasha explained, "I know you think I'm being a hard ass, and maybe I am—"

"I don't, actually," Jane interrupted. "I'd feel the same way in your shoes."

Appreciating the concession, Tasha smiled subtly, "I want to trust you, but I can't yet. It's going to take time."

"I understand."

"And if you betray us…if you betray Kurt…I will never forgive you. I will hunt you down."

Kurt returned, putting his hand reassuringly on Jane's shoulder as he explained, "That was Sarah. What are we talking about?"

"The future," Jane answered.

* * *

They spoke for another hour, the team warming up a bit, everyone appearing cautiously optimistic. When it seemed everyone had said all that there was to say, Kurt looked at Jane and asked, "Ready to go home?"

His apartment smelled a bit stale and dusty since it had been empty for so long, but he sighed at the feeling of being home again. It was even better since Jane was now with him. "I want you to make yourself at home," he insisted.

"Thanks," she answered, looking around like it was the first time she was seeing the apartment. It was the first time she was seeing it as her _home_.

"Come on," he suggested, a spark in his eye, "I have something to show you."

As they walked back to the bedroom, she teased, "Is that just a line to get me into your room?"

"Why would I need a line? I don't seem to have any trouble getting you into bed," he grinned.

Opening the door to his bedroom, she saw obviously new furniture, much of it still wrapped, filling the room.

"You got new furniture?" she asked.

"I did. I know you said you didn't really have any possessions to bring here…I wanted you to feel like something was ours. I hope you like it."

He waited nervously, wondering if she'd think the concept was foolish or kind, and, for a few moments, her face was unreadable. Finally, after a nearly eternal pause, at least in his mind, she smiled, "That was so sweet of you."

"If you don't like it, we can return it and pick something else."

She walked over to the dresser, peeling away the protective covering and staring blankly.

Kurt impatiently waited for a reaction that wasn't forthcoming. "After we're settled, you can pick a few more things. I want this place to be yours, too." She still didn't answer, and he walked slowly toward her, saying, his voice filled with regret, "I should have said something to you before I bought it—"

"I love it," she interrupted, finally facing him. She smiled although she looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Then what's the problem?" he asked.

"Absolutely nothing. I just didn't expect all of this. You're so kind…so thoughtful. I guess I'm just overwhelmed. You're…so much more than I deserve."

"Don't say that," he argued. "You…deserve much more. But I'm going to try like hell to give it to you." He wrapped his arm around her, lifting her chin with a knuckle on his free hand. "I'd say we're starting a life together, but we've already done that. Hopefully we're starting the next phase of our life together…if that's okay with you."

"It's more than okay with me," she replied, pressing against him as they hugged. Stepping away, she flung the moving cover off the bed and smiled, "We better take this thing for a test drive."

* * *

_Kurt and Remy went to the office of the nearby country doctor. Dr. Svobodova was an older woman, probably in her late sixties, but energetic and vibrant, with a kind pudgy face and warm demeanor. She had her own ultrasound machine and Doppler that seemed ancient, but she assured them it would work just fine. Remy sat on the examination table and she and Kurt waited to hear the tiny heartbeat._

_Speaking English, which was clearly not her first language, Dr. Svobodova said, "No cause for worry. Sometimes it is hard to find the heartbeat so early." Then she grinned, "See. Here it is."_

_Kurt and Remy listened to the rapidly pulsing heartbeat that emitted from a small speaker. "Why's it so fast?" he asked. "Is that normal?"_

" _It is just fine. Supposed to be this fast now," the doctor answered. "Good, strong heartbeat. No concern."_

_Remy looked at Kurt and saw the tears forming in his eyes. She'd known she was in love with him for a while, but when she saw the mixture of joy, worry, concern and bravery on his face, she fell in love with him all over again. There was no doubt that he already loved this child. She took his hand, closing her eyes and listening to the hyper rhythm that came from their baby._

_The doctor performed an ultrasound next, and if they thought hearing the heartbeat was amazing, they weren't prepared for the wonder and awe they felt when they saw the tiny embryo. It almost looked like the heartbeat extended beyond the baby as they saw the amniotic fluid ripple with each beat. When the doctor told them the estimated length of the pregnancy, they knew they must have conceived the baby very early in their relationship, most likely during the first few days they were together._

_Remy felt a tear slip down her face that she quickly brushed away, years of being trained to be cold and unfeeling made her rational mind berate her for showing such weakness. Kurt didn't seem to care that tears had found their way down his cheeks. Somehow, seeing a man like Kurt experiencing such emotion without shame comforted her. "That's our baby," he whispered, as if she could have forgotten._

_He looked at the doctor, "Is it a girl or a boy?"_

" _Too early to tell without genetic testing. If this is important, I can arrange to do this, but not here. For such tests you must go to the medical center," Svobodova replied._

" _Is that important to you?" Remy asked._

" _Oh, I don't care which it is," he immediately responded. Looking at her tenderly, he added, "I just want to know everything I can about the kid."_

_After the examination was over and Remy was dressed, she felt more connected to the reality of her pregnancy, and already felt more of an emotional connection to her new family. As Kurt waited, Remy spoke to the doctor in Czech about obtaining a birth certificate. Svobodova disappeared into her office, and Kurt said, "What was that about?"_

" _If we don't have our birth certificates, we can't get married."_

" _I have mine," he answered, pulling a waterproof case from his pocket and showing her the important documents he carried. There was identification, a birth certificate, his will, and letters to her and his sister. She knew he carried them in case he was ever killed in the line of duty, and that thought was sobering, to say the least._

_Svobodova gave her an address to pick up a forged birth certificate. "I like you," the woman said, "you are good people. I always know good people. You remind me of me and my husband when we were young. Go, get married and take care of your baby and have a very happy life."_

" _Thank you," Kurt said, firmly shaking the woman's hand._

_After they left, Kurt asked Remy, "How did you get that woman to help you get a birth certificate?"_

" _I gave her the whole spiel about needing to get married because of the baby. I also told her we had to get far away from some very bad people."_

" _How did you know you could trust her?"_

" _Did you see the photos on her wall? The humanitarian awards?"_

" _I was kinda busy."_

" _That woman has spent her whole life helping people. I trust her."_

* * *

_A few short days later, they had the necessary paperwork and found a priest to perform the ceremony. In the same small town where Svobodova had her office, there was a modest stone church. The priest seemed to have the same sympathies as the doctor had. He was even older, a bit hunched and with weather worn skin and vibrant blue eyes that peered through heavy eyelids._

_The church itself had only a dozen rows on each side of the aisle. A younger priest served as a witness, and Kurt and Remy stood at the front of the church. They listened as the officiant spoke about love and commitment, and the tremendous joy and responsibility that came with marriage. Kurt vaguely heard what the old man was saying, but he was so lost in Remy's eyes that everything else seemed distant and unimportant. Behind the altar, a stained glass window that glowed from the brightness of the sun cast color tinted shadows on their faces, and it felt, for a moment, that this union was somehow meant to be, endorsed by a higher power that had somehow brought them together._

_When it was time to exchange their vows, each answered with firm "I do's" that seemed to echo off the rock walls that surrounded them. That moment between them resonated with honesty and hope as the two young adults pledged their lives, their love and their future to each other. It was better than a dream, the warm feeling of her hand in his reminding him that it was very real. He'd always imagined a certain terror at the thought of marriage, but he'd never felt so certain. He felt as if he'd found the place he where he belonged, standing there at that exact time and spot, with only that woman._

_There was something more intensely romantic about the fact that they alone, besides the priests, attended this ceremony. Their wedding was not a show for friends and family, focused on receptions, guest lists or perfect dresses. Their wedding was only about the love that they shared for each other, and for the tiny bundle of cells growing inside her that they would one day hold and protect and adore._

_As they left, both a little dizzy with giddiness, they saw Svobodova waiting on a bench outside of the church. When they walked over to her, she congratulated them warmly before she said, "You're both in very terrible danger, are you not?"_

" _Why?" Remy asked._

" _Well, from our discussions at my office, and from my experience in working with refugees, I feel you need help."_

" _What kind of help?" Kurt asked._

" _To get far from here. Some place safe." Remy was obviously suspicious, and the doctor added, "Look…you don't have to tell me who or what you are running from. In fact, it is best if I do not know, but I have a friend who will get you away from here. To some place where you can make a new life."_

_Kurt and Remy looked at each other, knowing that their money was running out and they would eventually have to find a place to go._

" _It's up to you," the woman offered. Pressing a scrap of paper into Remy's hand, she said, "If you are interested, come to this address tomorrow at noon. My friend will help you. All that I ask…is that if anyone asks you, remember I did not give you this information."_

" _Absolutely," Kurt answered._

" _Whatever you decide, I wish you the best," the doctor said before she walked away, strolling through the trees like she was taking a normal afternoon walk._

_While they traveled back to their hotel, they decided to take the doctor up on her offer. Going with a stranger seemed no more dangerous than waiting for McKinley or his henchmen to find them, and they knew they had to get somewhere fast before their options ran out._

_Remy stood between Kurt and the door to their room at the inn, the pair kissing feverishly as their only thoughts were focused on consummating their marriage. As his mouth slipped along her neck, her body pressing against his desirously, he tried to unlock the door blindly. He was failing miserably, and she finally reached behind her back and helped him fit the key in the door._

_They stumbled through, and her hands went immediately to his zipper as he pressed her up against the inside of the door. It seemed they weren't even going to make it any further into the room as he lifted her, her legs winding around his waist as she pumped her hips toward him. They mumbled 'I love yous' and 'I want yous' and frivolous compliments that explained the depths of their desire, and then, in one heart stopping moment, they heard a cold voice from the far side of the room say, "My, my…exactly what are we celebrating?"_

_Remy broke off the kiss, staring into Kurt's eyes as he remained still and stunned, before she extricated herself from his arms and walked toward the voice. Shepherd sat on one of the proper chairs in the room, her hands folded over her stomach as she waited for an explanation._

" _Hey, Shepherd," Remy said, already obviously a bit worried when she heard the tone of Shepherd's voice. "We were worried you'd never find us."_

" _Those implants you have also serve as tracking devices. But I thought you'd try a little harder to reach me."_

" _You're working with McKinley?"_

" _God, no. McKinley's dead," Shepherd replied. "But we were able to access his computer and track you down. There's also some really interesting health information on those things. Are you wearing a ring?"_

" _Yea," Remy answered hesitantly._

" _And you're positively glowing," Shepherd added, spitefully._

_Remy looked away, knowing her mother had quite a temper when things didn't work out the way she wanted. "Look, I know that—"_

" _Are you pregnant, Remy?" Shepherd asked, standing._

" _That is none of your business," Kurt interrupted._

" _It is my business. So it's true?"_

" _Yes," Remy firmly answered._

" _You know the next few months are critical to our mission. So I'm assuming you don't intend to keep the baby."_

" _Of course we do," Kurt answered, putting an arm around Remy's waist._

" _Hmm," Shepherd answered, thinking for a moment. "Good thing I'm here to make sure you stay focused. I warned you, Remy, and you blatantly ignored my orders."_

_At that moment, Shepherd took out her gun, and two hooded figures stepped out from the shadows behind Kurt and Remy. Before either could react, the thugs quickly shot the young lovers with tranquilizers and watched as they slumped to the floor. "Get them back to base," Shepherd snapped. Looking down as Remy was slipping into unconsciousness, Shepherd added, "You disappointed me, girl…I really thought I could count on you."_


	18. Unlocked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-So the flashback is at the beginning this time and includes portions of memories and dreams to tie up the "young Jeller" storyline. Thanks for sticking with this, even if it was heartbreaking, and hopefully you like where the characters go. I do enjoy a little angst in any story, but I'm a huge fan of a happy ending. Okay…well, thanks again, to all readers. I hope you like this one!

 

— **Mid June 2003-Shepherd's Base** —

_Staring up into an almost blinding light, Remy was in a room walled off by plastic tarps and bare wood walls. Monitors beeped and whirred behind her, and when she tried to move, she was strapped down to a cold metal gurney. She realized, suddenly, that there were two sets of beeping monitors. Lifting her head, she looked to her left and saw Kurt on the gurney next to her. They both wore surgical bandages over the place where their implants had been.  
_

_The look in Kurt's eyes told her exactly how much terror he felt. He whispered, "We don't have much time. She's coming back!"_

_Remy tried to speak, but was far too disoriented._

_"Promise me," he whispered as steps echoed down the hall, coming steadily closer, "promise you won't forget me. I will never forget you, no matter what they do."_

_A figure approached wearing surgical gear, and tapped something into a computer, carefully watching the monitor. Remy felt a sharp stab of pain that seemed to emanate from her lower back, and a hideous cramping sensation that was enough to make even her cry out in pain. Kurt was next to her, angrily threatening, "If you hurt her, I will hunt you down and I_ _will_ _kill you." A second person in surgical gear, face covered with a mask, appeared. Although the only identifying trait that was visible was a single spiral of straw-colored hair that poked out disobediently from the covering, they both knew it was Shepherd. She mumbled a few inaudible words to her assistant, and the two began to wheel Remy out of the room._

_As the doors shut behind them, Kurt shouted, "I love you, Remy. I won't forget."_

_After a few minutes, Shepherd returned with another young man. The young man asked, "Do you have his story ready?"_

_"Yes," Shepherd, replied. "We need to make sure we get this right. And let's go with the FBI, not the CIA. This operation needs jurisdiction on US soil."_

_"What about the FBI?" Kurt asked._

_"You've always wanted to be an agent," she casually replied._

_"No I haven't," he argued._

_"Well, very soon, you will. And not just any agent. You're very driven to be the best. You're a natural leader. Once we finish your letters of commendation and embellish your nearly perfect record serving in Afghanistan and the Middle East, the FBI will swoop you right up. The FBI will be your life."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"You'll be our man on the inside. It's quite an honor. It took us a lot of searching to find the perfect candidate."_

_"You think you can force me to infiltrate the FBI?" he scoffed. "Why would I take orders from you?"_

_"That's the beauty of it. You'll think you're doing what you want to do…you won't have to listen to me. The most convincing operatives don't know they're operatives. When the time comes, we'll remind you of who you are. Besides, you know as well as I do that men like McKinley need to be exposed and punished."_

_"Mind control?" he asked._

_She sighed, "Not exactly. More like a subtle reprogramming. Under the right circumstances, even the strongest minds are open to suggestion. You'll forget Orion, me, McKinley…even Remy. Everything about your time here. When you wake up, you'll be returning home from the war full of memories of your time there. When you see Remy again in a few years, you won't really know why you feel so protective over her. That's an important component. We certainly hadn't planned on the two of you becoming so…_ _personal_ _…but since you have, we'll use that to our advantage. You're the man on the inside. She'll handle the outside, our link to you. It's perfect."_

_He began struggling to free his arms. He didn't want to forget. He didn't want to be some mindless puppet who was programmed to serve a purpose beyond his control. He had to get free, find Remy, and figure out a way to escape. Shepherd left and the young man stood by the door holding his gun. There was something familiar about his eyes, green and detached, but somehow sympathetic beneath the hardened exterior. This guy was so young, clearly too young to be a soldier, probably only sixteen or seventeen. A long scar that marred his face made it clear that the boy wasn't new to conflict. There was something in his demeanor that made it seem like he harbored reservations about the things that were happening around him. That uncertainty gave Kurt hope. "You know this isn't right, don't you?" Kurt bartered, "Let me go and I'll get Remy out of here. You can come too. You don't want to get mixed up with these people."_

" _Shepherd knows what she's doing. This is bigger than you and it's bigger than Remy," the young man replied._

_When they heard Remy shouting in the next room, the young man turned and looked at the door, the moment of weakness so obvious on his face that Kurt was certain the young man would help him free Remy. "You care about her, don't you?" Kurt asked._

" _Of course I do," the young soldier replied, "she's my sister."_

_But just as Kurt was most hopeful, the door swung open and Shepherd returned. "Go guard Remy," Shepherd said, and the empathy on the young man's face disappeared as he obeyed._

_While Shepherd made her preparations, she commented, "I never wanted to put you or Remy through all of this. I tried to warn her."_

" _Warn her about what?" Kurt asked. "Me? I would never do anything to hurt her."_

" _Oh, I know. You're a good man, Weller. I've been watching you for a long time. If things go well, you and Remy will see each other again, in time. But you'll have to be patient."_

" _Can't we make an agreement? I can help you with your plan, just please let her go. You're her mother…don't you want to see her happy? She wants that baby. I want that baby and I want her. We can help you."_

" _It's not that simple. I have plans…important roles for each of you that don't involve these complications," Shepherd said. "Remy can't be distracted by a man or a child. She needs to stay focused. And so do you. One day, you'll understand. You will help bring justice to those who deserve to pay for their actions. It's a very noble cause."_

_"If it's justice you want, why not just ask for our help?" Kurt begged. "You don't have to do this. We're on your side."_

_"I'm not sure I believe you. Besides, it will be better if you don't even know the role you're playing. We want to make real, lasting change. We can't run in there, guns blazing, and hope to effectively change the system."_

_"Bring them back to me," he bargained. "If you do, I swear I'll help you with your plan. No questions asked."_

" _Oh, you'll do this for me…for our country. For the fallen. I know this is hard to understand. When the time is right, you'll meet again. You have my word. If the feelings you have are as strong as she thinks they are, maybe they'll still be there, but honestly, the two of you and your happiness are inconsequential when compared to our mission."_

_Sensing that his time to negotiate was coming near its end, he tried one last time, "You don't have to do this. Please."_

_"You both chose this path. I warned her not to let emotions cloud her judgment. She didn't listen, so now it has to be this way."_

_Shepherd clicked a few buttons on the computer and Kurt felt his head start to spin as his conscious mind faded. In the background, he heard a story. The story told him he hadn't been part of Orion, he was in Afghanistan. The story told him about friendships and battles, soldiers lost, those who fought bravely. Above him, images flashed that corroborated the stories he was hearing._

_The story also told him that he wanted to join the FBI, and his goal and dream was to be part of the Critical Response team in New York City. He would meet Remy again, and although he wouldn't remember her or her name, he would feel protective over her. He would believe she was his long lost friend Taylor Shaw. One day, when the time was right, Shepherd would tell him what to do._

* * *

_Remy lay on the gurney, the radiating pain through her back stood in stark contrast to the joy she'd felt in her husband's arms only a few hours earlier. She saw her brother, Roman, come in to stand guard. "Is he okay?" she asked worriedly._

_Roman stood at attention, without answering._

" _Goddammit, Roman," she argued, "answer me. Is he alright?"_

" _He'll be fine," Roman said._

" _Help us get out of here."_

" _I've always looked up to you. What were you thinking?" he asked, lowering his gun to his side and walking next to her._

" _I fell in love. I didn't plan it. I could have had your niece or nephew…I know that means something to you…we've always looked out for each other. We're family."_

" _You shouldn't have fucked with Shepherd," he said. "You know how long she's been planning this. She trusted you to do what was best for all of us."_

" _Please, Roman…get me out of here and come away with me and Kurt. We can all be a family, together," she groaned in pain again, her body twisting on the gurney and she saw how concerned he was._

_But then Shepherd marched back into the room and she barked, "Did I give you permission to talk to her?"_

" _No, ma'am," Roman answered._

" _Get out there and guard the other prisoner. Stay by the door…don't interrupt him."_

" _Yes ma'am," Roman dutifully replied._

_Shepherd blocked him before he could leave and she said, "Don't you turn on me, too."_

" _I wouldn't."_

" _After all I've done for you…I took you in, raised you as my own, cared for you, gave you purpose."_

" _I know," he firmly answered. "I want Remy back too. She belongs with us. I won't let you down."_

_As Roman left, Shepherd looked at Remy and asked, "Is that a tear?"_

" _You're taking everything from me," Remy replied._

" _No, no. I'm not. I'm helping you find yourself again. You have a greater purpose. You just got distracted for a while."_

" _What are you going to do?"_

" _I'm going to change your memories of Orion…erase Kurt Weller and that embryo, and bring your life back into focus."_

" _This is cruel…even for you. Please, Shepherd."_

" _I'm not being cruel. You will see him again. He won't remember this, but he will care for you, look out for you. If things go well, when we have this mission nearly complete, the two of you will meet again, and who knows. If your feelings are real, maybe you'll fall in love again," Shepherd said, the skepticism clear in her voice although she tried to hide it._

_Shepherd helped Remy roll on her side. For a moment, Remy thought she was moved to help her deal with the pain, but a moment later she felt a deep burning gash being slashed into the back of her neck._

" _What are you doing?" Remy asked._

_Shepherd compared her handiwork to a photo she had of young Taylor Shaw and said, "Perfect. It will have a few years to heal, and Weller won't know the difference."_

" _What's perfect?"_

" _Don't worry. I'm going to fix everything," Shepherd said, moving Remy back to her reclined position. "I need Kurt alive and in position, so you have my word…I won't do any permanent damage to him."_

_Shepherd went to the computer, and Remy felt herself become woozy and then downright sleepy and disconnected. In the background, as if being spoken to in a dream, she heard a voice telling her about her experiences with Orion. Kurt wasn't there. She had never been pregnant or fallen in love._

_The story reminded her that she was harsh, cold, and unfeeling, practically robotic in her dealings, and obedient to Shepherd. The voice told her that the mission was more important to Remy than life itself, and nothing would stand in her way. She could kill without guilt, steal without reservation. The story told her that she would one day meet a man named Oscar. She would think she cared deeply for Oscar, but their connection would never be as important as the mission. When the time came, Remy would end the relationship and move on with the mission as ordered without hesitation._

_Finally, the story told her that when she woke, she would be a Navy SEAL in Afghanistan. Her whole squad was killed in the same drone attack. That would intensify her anger, and commitment to the mission. After that, she would be determined to do whatever was necessary to help Shepherd bring those in power to justice._

* * *

_A month later, Kurt Weller woke in an army hospital in Afghanistan. A soldier who'd been keeping an eye on him said, "Sir, you're in the hospital. Your group was ambushed. You're the only survivor."_

_Kurt lifted his head, immediately counting his arms and legs in the hopes that he hadn't lost any limbs in the attack. "We were attacked?" he asked._

" _That's what I was told. You're being sent home in a few days. Is there anyone I can call for you? A wife or girlfriend? Maybe parents?"_

_Kurt scratched his head, feeling like there should be someone he would want to call. He knew there was someone he cared deeply about. "I—I don't remember," he answered._

" _It's okay," a doctor said as she approached. She seemed vaguely familiar. "It's no surprise that you're a little disoriented. You've been through quite a lot."_

_She started to walk away and he said, "I remember now."_

_She turned slowly back and asked, "What do you remember?"_

" _My sister," Kurt answered. "I'd like to call my sister and tell her I'm coming home."_

" _We can arrange that, the doctor said sweetly. Anyone else?"_

" _Nah," he answered. "I'm not too close with the rest of my family."_

_The doctor left and the soldier standing guard sat when Weller gestured toward the chair. "Do you know that doctor?" he asked the soldier._

" _I haven't really been here long."_

" _She seems familiar," Weller replied._

" _So what will you do once you get back to the states?"_

" _I'll take a few weeks off, drink some beer, maybe…fraternize…then I'm going to head to Quantico and enroll at the FBI Academy."_

" _Wow, a Fed?" the young soldier asked._

" _Yea. I've always wanted to join."_

_The young soldier stood up and said, "I'll inform your nurse that you're alert and that you'd like to speak to your sister. They'll be able to tell you when you're headed home. It was a pleasure meeting you, sir."_

" _You too," Weller answered. Before the young soldier could leave, Weller said, "Hey. Were you injured in combat?" Weller nodded toward a long scar that ran down the young soldier's face._

" _I guess you could say that," the young soldier replied. "Take care, sir."_

* * *

_Several weeks later, after they were certain that Kurt was in place and that his memories had been correctly altered, Roman and Shepherd transported a heavily medicated Remy to Afghanistan. Her re-training had been more intense, and they gave her time to recuperate physically. It was crucial that her memories were correctly altered. They dressed her in SEAL gear, supplied her with the appropriate weapon, and replayed the computerized story that replaced her old memories one last time._

_As she woke, Roman placed her on the ground in a combat zone with the bodies of some of the other members of Orion that they'd rounded up. Roman left and re-joined Shepherd, watching Remy through a satellite link. "Now," Shepherd said, "we need to make this believable, but we don't want to damage her too badly."_

_One of Shepherd's crew, a woman only twenty years old named Fisher, was running a computer program that controlled a drone. Once Remy woke, Shepherd gave the order, "Fire when ready."_

" _Yes ma'am," Fisher replied._

" _And be careful…that is my daughter down there."_

" _Of course," the young woman answered._

" _But make it look good."_

_Fisher swallowed hard, assuming that if she messed this up, Shepherd would probably kill her. As Remy started to walk around, trying to gain her bearings, Fisher carried out the drone strike, hitting with remarkable accuracy right near Remy._

_All of Shepherd's crew watched the monitor worriedly. They saw Remy stand, bloodied and deeply wounded, but alive._

" _Nice work, Fisher," Shepherd said._

_Fisher stared at the screen, horrified at the reality of a drone strike and the risk that had been taken. Shepherd had put the life of her own daughter on the line. "I hope she'll be alright. She looks badly wounded," Fisher replied.  
_

" _It's perfect, good work," Shepherd replied, patting Fisher on the shoulder. "It had to seem real. Remy will survive. She's a fighter. Besides, there are some do-gooders nearby …Doctors without borders, I believe. One of them will help her." Thinking to herself for a moment, Shepherd noted, "We could use a doctor here."_

" _You have one in mind?" Roman asked._

" _Just something to consider," Shepherd replied with cold calculation._

_Fisher stood, trying to get as far away from Shepherd and Roman as she could before she started violently vomiting in the trashcan. She headed toward the door, telling those she passed that she just needed some air._

_Shepherd looked at Roman and said, "I've seen that look before. That girl can't handle this."_

" _You think she's leaving?" he asked._

" _We can't take any chances. Take care of it."_

_Roman, without worry, concern or a second thought, followed the young woman out the door. He saw Fisher standing beneath a few trees, crying. She hadn't noticed him yet, and before she could, he lifted his gun and shot her once in the head and once through the heart. Two other members of the crew were nearby, and looked at Roman questioningly. "Shepherd's orders. Security breach," Roman explained. "Get that cleaned up."_

_As he calmly walked back to Shepherd, he saw the other members of the crew hurriedly carrying out his commands._

* * *

Kurt and Jane spent a few days alone, enjoying the familiarity of being back in New York, stopping at a few restaurants and doing some light shopping so Jane could bring a few belongings to the apartment so it would feel homier to her. They appreciated having an entire apartment instead of a hotel or a room at Hark's, so they made love all over the house, enjoying each other in a relatively unencumbered environment.

One evening, Kurt ordered a pizza. When it arrived, Rich Dotcom was the delivery boy standing on the other side. "I really missed you guys," he said, smiling widely, "it's so good to have the gang back together."

Yanking Rich into the room and shutting the door, Kurt asked, "Do you think it will work?"

"Of course it will work," Rich said confidently before he vacillated, "at least for you."

"What do you mean for me?"

"Since Jane's memory was wiped again later, I can't guarantee which memories will come back. She may remember everything, maybe parts, maybe everything up until the first memory wipe…I have no way of knowing." Turning to Jane, he added, "If you want my advice, I wouldn't let anyone else tinker with your brain…stuff is going to start scrambling in there, ya know?"

"Believe me, I'm going to avoid that at all costs," she answered.

"How do we know you won't do anything to us? What if you put us into a coma or maybe assign some new memories of your own?" Kurt questioned.

"I wouldn't! I need your help. Without your support, they'll never hire me as a consultant," Rich retorted.

"But that wouldn't stop you from planting fake memories," Jane inserted.

"I'm guessing you won't just take my word for it?" Rich asked.

Both Jane and Kurt shook their heads, and then Rich said, "I'll allow you to have an observer…someone from your team that you trust. But he or she will be an observer only. They have to stay quiet or it might not work."

Jane and Kurt exchanged a glance for a moment, and agreed, "Okay."

"We need a place without any interruption, but a safe, clean building…hmm…you remember where we met…at the party for Carl?"

"You can't go back there!" Kurt argued.

"Actually I can. It's still empty until they can auction it off, so I think that will be perfect. Meet me here," he said, giving Jane a pizza receipt with an address written on it. Dress comfortably and bring one observer. "

* * *

They spoke to the team later that night, meeting at Kurt's apartment, and they each volunteered to go as the observer. Reade and Zapata both felt their training made them best suited to protect Kurt and Jane. Patterson argued, "If there's a technique here, maybe I should learn it…that way, if this happens again, I can decode memories instead of… _him_."

"You're going to have to get used to working with _him,_ " Kurt answered, "but I think Patterson is right. Reade and Zapata, you stay at the ready. If something goes wrong, we're counting on you both."

"You got it," they both answered.

Kurt and Jane shared drinks with the team, and everyone seemed more relaxed. Tasha sat down next to Jane and the two of them were alone for the first time in a while. "So the CIA…Kurt said they put you through some serious shit."

Jane took a deep breath and nodded, "Yea. It was pretty terrible."

"Look…I did some stuff that I'm not proud of either—"

"Like what?" Jane asked immediately.

"Just stuff…you know. But my point is, I'm not perfect either. And Weller…he actually looks happy. Please don't break his heart. No matter what memories come back."

"I wouldn't," Jane argued. "I—I love him. I never want to hurt him again."

"You know," Tasha answered, "I think you mean that."

"I do."

"I'm sorry about what the CIA did. I was mad, but I wouldn't have wished that on you."

"Thanks," Jane sighed, flashes of her CIA tormentors popping into her mind.

"Kurt has good instincts about people. So I need to trust him, too."

The rest of the group joined them, and it seemed as the night went on that they were becoming a true team again.

* * *

Kurt, Jane and Patterson went to the address, a rather seedy location with a dock. A speedboat picked them up and began zipping toward its destination.

"You don't think…they're just going to kill us and throw our bodies into the ocean, do you?" Patterson asked.

"I really think he needs us to get him the job as a consultant and the protection he needs," Jane answered.

"Besides…I think Rich remembers that we can be kind of difficult to kill," Weller added.

The boat took them directly to Rich's old mansion, and they saw Rich himself sitting on a reclining chair enjoying a drink on the grass. "Can we get this moving?" Kurt asked.

"Let's go," Rich answered.

He took them inside, putting Kurt and Jane in the room on the lower level. He directed Patterson up to the old security room, reminding her that silence was crucial, and gave her a feed to watch and hear everything. "If you do something to them, I'll shoot you," Patterson told Rich.

"We're all pals now…compadres, buddies, teammates. Don't worry. You'll be able to see and hear everything. This is my ticket to a new life on the straight and narrow."

Patterson rolled her eyes and went to check the equipment.

"You're sort of adorable when you're skeptical," Rich said before he hurried off to the lower level.

"Sorry," he told Kurt and Jane, "I used to have some really fantastic bedding here but, thanks to the federal government, you get mats on the floor."

"Was that the government's fault? I could have sworn that had to do with your criminal activities," Kurt retorted.

Rich ignored him and set up some IV poles around them. "Now, I was able to figure out what your recall sequence is, but I need to relax you first. This IV will quiet your conscious mind, almost like the twilight anesthesia they use for simple procedures."

"Where's the anesthesiologist?" Kurt asked.

"I've got this covered," Rich argued, "nothing to worry about."

He tried a few times unsuccessfully to place the needle until Jane became irritated, grabbed the IV kit and set Kurt's IV and then her own. As Kurt and Jane drifted off to sleep, Rich leaned down to each of their ears and whispered a long sequence of numbers and letters that Patterson could barely hear, but noted as best as she could.

"I'm almost ready to wake them up from their little naps," Rich said loudly so Patterson could hear through the speaker. "Oh, one more thing," he said, quickly leaning down and whispering something to Kurt and then Jane before he closed off the flow from their IV bags and waited for them to awaken.

As they woke, they heard Patterson in the room near them, yelling, "What did you do at the end?

"Insurance," Rich replied. "Well, guys," he started, addressing Kurt and Jane, "remember anything?"

They didn't answer him. For several minutes they sat there silent, their conscious minds trying to put all of their memories in place. They turned and looked at each other, and it was evident that at least some of the memories came back.

"Are you alright?" Patterson asked, standing between them.

Jane was the first to speak, mumbling, "It's just so much all at once. Overwhelming."

Both of their eyes looked red like they could cry, but at the same time they looked as joyful as either had ever been. "Oh my god," Jane said, shaking her head before she dashed into Kurt's arms.

They held so tightly onto each other as the memories poured back. They not only remembered that first spark of love, but they could actually feel it. They could feel the loss and pain and fear, but they could also feel the adoration, hope and excitement. It was as if they _were_ those young people desperately in love, yet still the slightly older, wiser, cautious people they'd become. Kurt took her face in his hands and started to kiss her, completely unaware or unconcerned that they weren't really alone. As the kiss deepened and became more passionate, Patterson smacked Rich and turned him around, ordering, "Don't watch them, freak."

Kurt heard her and pulled back, saying to the room. "Sorry. I just…it is a lot to take in." Looking deeply in Jane's eyes, he said, "I remember it all."

"Me too, at least up to the point when Shepherd separated us and stole our lives," her voice cracked. "She…"

"I know," he answered. "We will find her and she will pay."

"I think I remember some things about her operation that may be useful."

He stood, helping her up as he kept staring at her like a boy with his first crush. "I missed you," he said.

"I missed you too…this is really weird."

He nodded. They felt the same things they'd felt before, but each emotion and memory was heightened, more powerful, more consuming.

"I don't mean to worry you," Patterson said, slowly turning back to make sure they weren't kissing. "But Rich did something at the end, and I couldn't hear."

"What did you do?" Kurt said, charging toward Rich and grabbing him by the shirt.

"Just a little insurance in case you don't follow through with your part of the bargain," Rich replied.

"What kind of insurance?" Jane asked.

"A little code just in case you screw me over. I could…you know…take some of the memories away again…at least I think. I don't know how well it would work because I haven't tested it. But why risk it? Follow through, and you won't have to worry about it."

"I do what I say I'm going to do," Kurt argued.

"We better get out of here," Rich said, "I don't want anyone to know we're here."

Rich and Patterson walked out of the room, and as Jane stepped through the door, Kurt grabbed her and pulled her back. Shutting the door and pressing her against it, he offered a searing kiss that made her whole body tingle with life and love. He so badly wanted to take her right then and there, without waiting another second, to finally grasp the moment Shepherd had stolen from them so many years ago after they were married. "I love you," he panted.

"I love you, too," she replied, re-initiating the kiss.

"If it was just Rich out there, I'd say make him wait," Kurt whispered, smirking.

"Right," Jane smiled, gently tugging his lower lip between her teeth, "but Patterson's waiting too. We better go."

He agreed, unhappily, but took her hand and walked out the door. "You guys finished?" Rich said.

"We haven't even gotten started yet," Kurt replied.

Rich gave them a cell number and said, "Call me here with the meeting time and place for my new job, okay, team?"

"See you in a few days," Jane replied. "Thank you."

Rich countered, "So let me get this straight, I get your memories back, and all I get is a 'thank you'? There's no kiss for me?"

"You're right," Jane said, "Kurt, give him a kiss."

Kurt gave her a side-eyed glance and said, "I'll pass. But I won't forget this. Thank you," he said, extending a hand to Rich and shaking it firmly. "I'm really glad to know who I am again…all of me. It feels pretty damn good."

Jane said, "I hope this isn't just some game you're playing. You're talented. You would make a great addition to the team, if you're willing to really try."

"Of course I will," he replied in a way that didn't instill much confidence in anyone else.

"Well, no matter what, thank you for this…thank you for our memories," Jane said, shaking his hand.

Patterson and Jane boarded the speedboat, and Kurt leaned toward Rich and said, "If you screw us over, the next kiss you're gonna get is from my fist. Got it?"

"Sure," Rich answered, smiling, looking less intimidated than he should. "I'll see you at the office," he added waving over his shoulder as he walked away.

Patterson was ready to get off that boat. Kurt and Jane were staring at each other like a dehydrated person would focus on a desert oasis. They tried to be polite, keeping their hands to themselves, but Patterson couldn't ignore the lusty tension that exuded from them. She called Zapata and Reade, who'd been standing by, and assured them that they were on their way back and that everything had gone fine. She planned to meet them as soon as the boat docked.

After she hung up, she looked at Kurt and Jane and said, "I'm meeting the team for beer if you want to come celebrate. I understand if you have other plans."

"I think we might miss this one," Kurt replied. "Maybe next time."

"We have to—to you know…the new furniture," Jane stuttered.

"Right," Kurt added, "figure out where everything goes and—"

"Guys," Patterson stopped them with a gentle smile, "I'm not ten. I get it. Go home and screw each other's brains out. You've earned it."

Jane and Kurt both looked more flustered than usual, but each nodded. "Thanks for going today," Jane said to Patterson. "It was good to know you had our backs."

Kurt added, "And for not trying to guilt us into going out tonight—" he stopped as Jane elbowed his ribs.

"Oh, it wasn't for your benefit," Patterson teased, "I didn't want the rest of the team to have to watch you two have eye sex all night."

Patterson stepped off the boat as they arrived back at the dock, and before Jane followed, she turned and looked at Kurt. Her eyes were somehow sexier, lips somehow fuller, skin somehow softer, everything about her was exponentially more amazing than it had been when he'd woken that morning. She whispered, "Take me home."


	19. Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Shortish chapter this time, but this was a good breaking point. I should have the next chapter up within a week (and maybe a second chapter from "Toward You" based off a reader suggestion that was too good to pass up). Thanks for your continued support!

The moment they returned to the apartment after recovering their memories, they were kissing and tugging at any clothing that happened beneath their fingers. For a few seconds, this moment darted forward like a mad dash to the finish until Jane pulled away and grabbed her gun. Kurt, convinced that she had heard something he hadn't, followed suit and joined her as she cleared the apartment. They checked every room, every closet, under every bed and possible hiding space before Jane was satisfied.

When she finally put down her gun, Kurt asked, "What did you hear?"

"Nothing," she replied, smiling with some embarrassment. "I thought—I just remembered how Shepherd snuck up on us after the wedding and…"

"You were worried it might happen again?"

"Yea. I don't want to take any chances. I don't want to lose everything and have to claw my way back to you all over again because…by the time I find you, it might be too late."

"You will not lose me. I'm not going anywhere. But you're right, we need to find her and finish this. And then we can continue on with our lives."

"It's so weird to have so many memories again," she said, moving him back to the sofa before she sat in his lap, facing him. "I remember our first time together, our wedding, everything…like it just happened yesterday."

"Me too," he replied, his hands massaging her sides and back as he kept her close.

"I'm so angry that our lives were stolen, but now that we have a chance to get it all back, I want it all."

"Me too," he answered again, a little distractedly as her hands moved between them and freed him from his jeans.

His hands grabbed her hips as she scooted forward in his lap again and he lifted her until she was standing on the sofa cushions with a foot on either side of his thighs. She unbuttoned her own pants, but before she even let go he was yanking them off and pulling her back down into his lap. They moved together with exquisite cooperation as he pushed inside her and she rested her face in the crook of his shoulder. When she was ready to move, she lifted her head, staring into his eyes. He took her hands and held them against his chest and stated, firmly, "Marry me…again. Or renew our vows or whatever it takes to make this official."

"Are you serious?" she chuckled confusedly.

"Completely."

She grinned and started giggling before she said, "I can only imagine how many men have proposed at a moment like this and regretted it once the blood returned to their brains."

"I won't regret it," he said, dotting kisses on her chin and lips.

He remained perfectly still, waiting for her answer. She tried to ignore the question for the time being, hoping to continue the conversation when they weren't in such a compromising position, but, as usual, he was stubborn. "I'd rather get an answer than have sex," he finally said. "I am that serious. I finally know why I haven't been able to commit to any other woman…I've been waiting for you. I don't want to wait any longer to ask."

She grabbed his face and replied, "Of course I want to marry you…again."

He smiled widely before he whispered, "I love you so damn much."

"Me too," she responded, yelping when he lifted her and rolled her over so she was lying on the sofa before he crashed down on top her.

It was one of the happiest moments of their lives, finding each other, knowing that they both were ready for a commitment and a future together. They were smiling like lovesick fools, screwing like hormone-flooded teenagers, and in love more intensely than either of them had really experienced before.

He lay behind her on the sofa when they were through, both still half dressed, and he held her against him so she wouldn't fall off the furniture. Jane started shaking a bit and he thought she was crying. He put his chin on her shoulder. "What's wrong?" he gently inquired.

"Nothing," she replied, the tone of her voice making it clear that she was laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"I guess we won't be telling our grandkids the story of how you asked me to marry you."

He started to chuckle, too, and answered, "Yea…I guess I could have been more romantic."

"I don't know…there's something really romantic about wanting to get married so bad that you couldn't wait any longer. So maybe I'll just tell them 'We were at home on the sofa, and he couldn't wait one more minute…so he asked me right then and there.' It'll be our little inside joke."

"God…," he boasted, "I am _extremely_ romantic. You're truly a lucky woman."

"I am," she said elbowing him firmly.

They lay there quietly for a little while as he rubbed her tummy with his thumb. He finally said, "You know…in most situations, in order to have grandkids, you kinda have to have kids first."

She stiffened against him, like she was nervous or worried, and she said, "I'm open to the idea in the future. You?"

"Definitely," he answered, nipping her ear between his teeth.

Since they hadn't bothered fully undressing the last time, he impatiently started yanking the shirt from her body. She rolled, dragging him with her as they landed on the floor. The happiness slipped from her face as she suddenly became very stoic, "I love you, Kurt…I hope you know that."

"Of course," he worriedly responded. "Why? What's going on?"

"Everything feels so perfect right now. The last time it felt this perfect—"

"Shepherd took it all," he finished.

"Exactly. And I—I can't go through that again. It hurt too much. I can't devote myself to having children until I know that we're…that _they're_ …safe."

"So we take down Shepherd first?"

"Yea. As soon as she's gone, we'll set a date for a wedding. I want this…I want you and a family…I promise. I know it sounds crazy but—"

"It does not sound crazy. I understand."

* * *

In the days that came, Kurt was a man on a mission. He was angry that Shepherd had taken so much, and at the same time frustrated that their lives were still on hold because of her. As long as she was still out there, they'd never be truly free.

He brought Rich in to the office, and Patterson definitely wasn't happy to see the man again. Reade and Zapata, although they thought it was crazy, weren't nearly as irritated by Rich's presence as Patterson was. They all gathered in the conference room, and Kurt briefed his team. "We have to get this woman…Shepherd. She is a threat to the security of the nation and to us as well. I'll admit, this is definitely personal. She did some things to me and Jane…that I can't just forget about. She's dangerous, methodical, manipulative, and driven."

Everyone on the team looked at Jane and the way she tried to look tough but still seemed so sad. "Where do we start?" Zapata asked.

"We need to locate Shepherd…draw her out," Kurt responded. "Patterson, you're on tattoo duty. I need you to look for anything that might point to Jane's adoptive mother, or her terrorist organization. Rich…do what you do…use your contacts to see if you can find Shepherd. Zapata, Reade, Jane and I will follow-up on the few leads we have, and look through the documents we gathered from the orphanage where Jane was kept as a child. Maybe there's something in there that might give us a lead."

Months passed, and the team came up short after chasing lead after lead. Every time it felt like they were getting closer, Shepherd slipped through their fingers. It seemed like it would never end.

* * *

One night, Kurt and Jane went home, and as she walked down the hall to the shower, a figure grabbed her and held her at gunpoint. "Relax," the man whispered.

He stepped her out into the living room, carefully controlling Jane's movements as he kept the gun tightly to her head and positioned her body directly in front of him as a shield. Weller spun and saw the sight, immediately un-holstering and aiming his gun with amazing speed. "Let her go," Weller ordered.

"I just want to talk," the man said.

"If you hurt her," Weller began, but then he paused since the man was familiar. "Wait…I know you. You're Remy's brother…Jane's brother."

"That's impossible. How do you remember?" the man started to ask, but Jane broke free and quickly flipped Roman under her, his gun in her hand. He grinned up at her and said, "I missed you, Remy."

"You have a weird way of showing it." She corrected, "And I'm not Remy. I'm Jane."

"Okay," Roman responded hesitantly.

"What do you want?" Kurt asked.

"To talk."

"Shepherd sent you?" Jane asked.

"No…she doesn't know I'm here," Roman replied.

"What do you want to talk about?" Kurt questioned.

"You guys need to back off. Forget Shepherd—"

"Are you serious?" Jane scoffed. "Do you have any idea what she did to us?"

"Yes," Roman calmly answered, "and that's why I'm willing to give you some free advice."

"Which is?" Weller asked.

"You need to stop looking for her. Go make a life for yourselves somewhere remote. Drop off the grid, change your names…disappear."

"I can't do that," Jane responded.

"Shepherd is more powerful than you seem to remember. And once she's put her mind to something, there is no stopping her," Roman warned.

"I'm quite aware," Jane replied. "How do we know you're not setting us up?"

"I'm not."

"Jane's right. What proof do you have? You might be walking us right into Shepherd's trap," Kurt suggested.

"But I'm not," Roman defended. "What she did to you, Rem— _Jane_ –it's always bothered me. You and me, we always had each other's backs. When you needed me, I let you down. I've regretted it every day."

"I want to believe you," Jane stated cautiously.

"I'm getting out, Remy. I met someone. A woman. We're going to disappear. You should too."

"She'll find us. She'll always find us. We need to take her down," Jane replied.

"You're going to kill our mother? That's heartless, even for you," he retorted.

Jane seemed stunned at the accusation, realizing that he still knew her as the viciously fierce Remy that Shepherd had programmed, and not as Jane, and the difference was quite drastic. "I've changed," she said. "I'm not the person I was. But as long as she's out there, we'll never be safe. Help us…then we can all be free to have our own lives. I don't want to kill her, but she needs to be taken off the streets."

"I can't," Roman replied.

"Just tell me where we can find her. Roman, she took my husband. She took our child. The only thing that matters to her is her agenda…her mission was always more important than we were. How could a _mother_ take so much from her daughter?"

"I don't know."

"You and I…we're supposed to be together. If we both disappear, I'll lose the only person who cared about me growing up…my only positive link to the past, to our parents. And you know Shepherd. She won't rest until she finds us. I want to have you in my life. Please, Roman."

Roman swallowed and finally said, "What do you need?

* * *

Roman provided a location, a single place on a single day where Jane would be able to find Shepherd. Kurt and Jane rushed to the office, sharing the information with the team and developing a strategy to finally capture Shepherd. They all worked nearly endless hours over the next few days, plotting and planning and trying to come up with every possible scenario they might encounter. Of course they all knew there was the possibility that Roman had lead them straight into a trap. He'd left after speaking to his sister, and returned to Shepherd's organization to avoid suspicion. The thought of being betrayed by her brother terrified Jane. Although they'd been long separated, she wanted the chance to rebuild a relationship and consider him a part of her family again, a true brother.

The morning of the day they were going to meet Shepherd, Kurt readied himself for work, prepared to go in and rehearse their plans one last time before he finally had a chance to capture the woman who'd stolen his family and happiness from him. Jane was sitting on the sofa, holding her bent legs against her torso, the tips of her fingers worriedly in her mouth as her coffee sat untouched on the table before her. "You okay?" he asked as he approached.

"Nervous," she replied.

As he saw her face, he realized she'd been crying, "Hey," he whispered. "What's going on? Tell me."

"I just hope we get her. That we can finally end this."

"Me too. And we will. It ends today."

Jane sniffled slightly and nodded, clearly more anxious than optimistic.

"Is something else going on?" Kurt asked. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No! Not at all. I'm ready."

He sat next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders, and he insisted, "Talk to me."

"I should have been more careful. I'm so sorry," she mumbled.

"For what?"

She looked up at him, her eyes red and wet, her lower lip quivering slightly. "I'm pregnant."

His eyes opened wider and he started to grin as he stuttered, "Why-why would you—you apologize for that? That's fantastic news! Unless—did something go wrong?"

"No," she shook her head, "I just…I said we'd wait until we had Shepherd in custody and—"

"Jane, honey, you had to know this could happen. You weren't the only adult involved in this relationship…I'm just as responsible. We haven't exactly been careful, and we have an awful lot of sex for it _not_ to happen."

"I know."

"You don't…you don't want the baby?" he asked nervously.

"I do! I really do. More than you know. But we're so close to Shepherd. And if she takes this from us again…" Jane said, her arm wrapping protectively around her torso.

"We'll hide you at the NYO, out of reach. Somewhere safe."

"No!" she argued. "We always have to assume she's two steps ahead of us. I can't let you go in without me. I need to be there, to have your back. I need to end this. I need to be by your side, with you the whole time."

"Okay," he answered patiently. "We'll keep eyes on each other at all times. We'll have plenty of backup. And we will end this today."

"Alright," she nodded. "Please, Kurt, don't tell anyone yet."

"My lips are sealed."

He stood up, offering a hand to help her stand as well, and as soon as she was on her feet, he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up. "We're gonna have a baby," he grinned, the happiness soaking his features. "This…this is good news. I'm so happy. So lucky. God."

She smiled back, finally allowing herself to feel a little of the joy. "You're happy? Really?"

"I'm beyond happy. Thrilled. You have _nothing_ to worry about. Today—is a great day."

While she got ready for work and he was alone, he paused, bracing his forehead in his hands. He was overjoyed, ecstatic actually, at the thought of Jane carrying his child. At the same time, he wished he could lock her up in the very heart of the FBI, surrounded by hundreds of heavily armed agents ready to protect her. But Jane had never been a damsel waiting to be rescued, and he knew he couldn't force her to become one now. He didn't want Jane to see his fear at the thought of losing everything again. If he lost her, he didn't think he'd survive the pain. The stakes had already been high, but now they were higher than ever before.

It wasn't a day for mourning or fear, he assured himself. It was a day to finally get his revenge for a horrible wrong over a decade ago. Shepherd would never hurt anyone again. He just hoped that Roman wasn't going to lead them into a trap.


	20. Mother

Jane, Kurt, Reade and Zapata all waited in the back of the delivery truck that was supposed to contain hardware that Shepherd needed for her mission while Rich and Patterson supported them from the office. Kurt painstakingly double and triple checked Jane's bulletproof vest, and that fact did not go unnoticed by the team. The plan was simple…the team would travel to the drop point where Roman would pick up the truck and drive it to an abandoned factory where Shepherd would meet them.

When the truck shut off, the team all became quiet, knowing that it was time for Roman to begin driving. They could hear talking outside, but could not hear well enough to decipher the words. Suddenly the sliding door at the back of the truck lifted, and the team found themselves in the sights of at least ten guns being wielded by Shepherd's thugs, including Roman. Reade and Zapata were forced out and tied up in a storage unit, but Kurt and Jane remained in the back of the truck.

"How did you find us?" Roman questioned angrily.

Kurt and Jane, understanding that Roman was putting on a performance for the benefit of Shepherd's other operatives, remained silent. After questioning them for several minutes, Roman gave orders to tie Jane and Kurt together in the back of the truck so they could be delivered to Shepherd. After everyone else left, Roman inspected the ropes that held the prisoners personally. While he tested the bonds, he pressed something into Jane's hand, taking a moment to stare right into her eyes in a way that many people would find intimidating, but she found reassuring.

The door slid closed and the truck started again. Jane felt the object in her hand and smiled. "He's still on our side," she whispered.

"It sure as hell doesn't feel like it," Weller replied.

"He gave me a coin…something we passed back and forth as children. It's a sign. Trust him. Trust me."

"Just in case," he responded, "we need to try to get free."

Jane was able to slip her one wrist out of the rope, realizing that Roman must have loosened it a bit, and then she had enough slack to free Kurt's hands as well. "We don't have much time," she cautioned, standing and quickly hurrying over to a small crate that Roman had left in the back of the truck.

Opening it, she found two handguns and extra ammunition, splitting them between herself and Weller. The truck came to a stop and the two of them went back to their space on the floor of the truck, pretending to still be bound and helpless.

The door rolled up once again, and Shepherd hopped into the back of the truck and said, "It's been a long time. I wish your return was under better circumstances."

"Let us go," Kurt ordered, "before the entire FBI decides you're priority number one."

"You think I'm afraid of the FBI?" Shepherd chuckled. "They don't even make my top ten list."

She sat down on her haunches, looking at Jane. "You know, there was a time when you weren't just my daughter…you were my best soldier. My favorite. You were strong, ruthless, unstoppable."

"I was a pawn," Jane argued.

"I needed you, Remy," Shepherd replied. "You've both ruined so much of what I've worked for. Do you know how many years of work have gone into this? How many people have made the ultimate sacrifice? I won't let their sacrifices be made in vain because of you. I'm not the enemy."

"You've lost your mind," Kurt answered. "You hurt your own children, twisted them and used them to suit your purpose. That's sick."

Shepherd chuckled and said, "Since I have to start over anyway…" and pulled out a gun.

Kurt turned, quickly producing his gun and shooting toward Shepherd, watching her run from the back of the truck and hide in the shadows. She called out to Roman to assist, but as Kurt and Jane peeked out of the truck, they couldn't see anyone. Bullets flew past them and they both ducked back into the truck. Weller pointed at a few spots of blood on the wall and floor, and said, "I think I grazed her right leg. Hopefully that slows her down."

"She couldn't have gone far," Jane whispered, "probably behind the crates straight ahead. Jane climbed up toward the roof and opened a hatch. "Out this way."

The two of them, as quickly and quietly as they could, emerged on the roof before climbing down the front of the truck and splitting up, trying to attack Shepherd from both sides and corner her between them. As Jane rounded a pile of pallets and finally saw Shepherd, someone kicked Jane's feet out from under her and the next thing she knew, two men had her trapped between them. One hit her with something, probably the butt of his gun, and she felt a burning sensation, followed by momentary numb dizziness, and then a sheer burst of pain. The same man punched her kidney, and she doubled over, hoping they'd think she was more incapacitated than she actually was.

Their grips loosened a bit as they seemed to believe her. She quickly kicked and punched, using all of her strength and training and somehow managing to free herself from both of them in spite of their much larger size. They had managed to strip her gun though, the weapon sliding across the concrete floor and further into darkness.

She fumbled around for the gun and then heard Shepherd's cold voice, "Remy, if you're smart, you'll get on your knees, hands behind your head."

Jane glanced up, seeing Kurt kneeling on the ground ahead, Shepherd's gun at his temple. He looked at Jane, and she knew the moment he was going to make a move. Just as he did, ducking quickly and attempting to disarm Shepherd, one of the two thugs that had Jane moments earlier charged at her. She managed to wrest his weapon from his grasp and quickly shoot both thugs, but the next moment heard the loudest crack of gunfire that she could remember.

She spun around and saw Kurt on his back on the floor, Shepherd standing over him with her gun pointed as his chest. Jane studied Kurt for signs…blood, movement, any clue to let her know if he was living or dead. She suddenly noticed blood, but it didn't seem to come from him, it was dropping down on his torso from above.

Shepherd slumped to her knees grasping at her throat where a bullet had pierced. Kurt hurried back, sliding across the floor to get away from Shepherd while Jane tried to figure out how he'd shot Shepherd without a gun.

Roman stepped out from the shadows, his gun pointed at Shepherd. He looked horrified and apologetic, but when he looked over and saw Jane, bloodied, bruised and beaten, he turned back to Shepherd and screamed, "Why'd you have to drag us into this mess? We trusted you! Why'd you hurt my sister?"

Roman's control was slipping and he started shaking, like years of manipulation and violence had finally caught up to him and he could no longer keep his angst controlled. He squeezed the trigger, once and then several times in succession until the clip was empty, piercing Shepherd through the head and heart and gut as a tears pooled in his eyes.

There was no way to save her now, no way to make her stand trial or get information from her, but at least there was no way she'd hurt anyone ever again. Roman crumpled to the floor, his power taken from him, and it broke Jane's heart. "Are you alright?" she asked Kurt, hoping that he hadn't been seriously wounded in the altercation that had occurred.

"I'm fine," Kurt answered, glancing toward Roman with concern.

Jane rushed to her brother, and for the first time since they were small, he looked like her little brother, vulnerable and frightened. She hugged him, wrapping her arms tightly around him as she whispered, "It's okay. We can start over. We're free."

The torrent of emotions came, and then abruptly ended. Roman looked up, his eyes steely and resolved as he took control again. The vulnerability that had been so obvious seconds earlier had vanished. "Are you alright?" he asked Jane. "Shepherd was suspicious, so I had to change the plans a bit."

"I'm just fine. I knew you couldn't betray us. You saved Kurt's life. Thank you," she said, her eyes punctuating her solemnity.

Roman simply nodded and replied, "You better get out of here. It won't be long before someone comes looking for her."

"Wait," Jane argued, "you aren't just leaving, are you?"

"Do you have any idea the things I've done in the past few years? If I'm arrested I'll never see daylight again."

"You saved the life of an FBI agent and his consultant. I'm sure that counts for something," she said, looking to Kurt for backup.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Kurt answered. "I mean, I'm sure the circumstances will help to reduce the sentence…maybe if you have something to offer…intel? Something valuable that might help bring in the rest of Shepherd's operatives…"

"I'll think about it," Roman replied.

Kurt helped Jane up into the truck and turned to talk to Roman. Weller wanted to thank Roman, because the one thing that both men wanted was to keep Jane safe, and Weller knew Roman would do his best to protect her. He looked around, but Roman was already gone.

* * *

When they returned to the field office, they were greeted as heroes. Shepherd's body had been returned and her identity verified. Zapata and Reade had made their way back after escaping the storage unit, and everyone went to Kurt and Jane's apartment to celebrate. They even let Rich out for the celebration. Patterson arrived first, carrying several bottles of champagne. Reade and Zapata brought food, and everyone was overjoyed that they'd finally defeated Shepherd.

They all basked in their success, reveling and sharing camaraderie as they drank glass after glass of champagne, followed by whiskey. Jane went to the kitchen to grab dessert, and Kurt followed her. Leaning close, he whispered, "I guess now we'll have to pick an actual wedding date. Unless…you changed you mind."

"I haven't," she huskily replied, gently pecking a kiss next to his lips before she walked past. He grabbed her and pulled her back against him, threading his arms around her torso, his hands protectively covering her tummy.

She chuckled as Kurt playfully kissed her neck, and she pulled away when Rich joined them in the kitchen. "I need a little more of that," Rich drunkenly said, pointing to a bottle. "But since we're all here, what do you say we send the rest of the gang packing and indulge in a little hot three-way action. I'm game if you're game."

"You're never going to give up," Weller commented.

"What can I say, I'm an optimist. And I'm really intrigued by this dynamic we share—"

He paused when Jane jokingly smacked his face, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to do any real damage. "If that was supposed to deter me," he added, "you failed…I think you might have added fuel to the fire, so to speak."

Jane and Kurt were already walking away as Rich continued to explain.

Tasha joined Rich in the kitchen, and asked, "Something about them seem weird to you?"

"Definitely," he chuckled, leaning closer. "Any theories?"

"Maybe it's just weird seeing Kurt happy. Probably defies one or two laws of nature, don't you think?" Tasha chuckled, and then noticed that Rich was staring down her top and reaching out to rub her arm. "Don't even think about it, _Gord_ ," Tasha warned.

"Wow, you guys are all really uptight. It's lonely in lockup. You know?"

Tasha shrugged her indifference as she and Rich returned to the rest of the group. Everyone was listening to Kurt tell a story about Patterson when they'd first met, and Rich watched Jane crack open a bottle of water. Next to Jane, there were two empty bottles of water.

There was a lull in the laughter, and for just a second, not a single one of them made any noise until Rich gasped, and victoriously declared, pointing at Jane, "I know your secret."

"What secret?" Jane asked, nervously.

"Ignore him. He's just yanking your chain," Weller said, "or digging for information."

"Oh yea?" Rich challenged. "You're pregnant. Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong," he said to Jane, before turning to Kurt and saying, "Or didn't you know? Maybe you're not the father?"

"Of course I'm the father," Kurt countered, falling right into Rich's confirmation trap.

"How did you know?" Patterson asked.

"Stubbles is being extra protective, even here where there's obviously no danger…by my count, I've seen him touch her stomach at least three times just this evening. And she hasn't had anything to drink except water."

Tasha countered, taking another swig, "Jane wouldn't be crazy enough to face off with Shepherd when she's pregnant." Tasha continued chuckling until she realized that no one else was laughing.

Jane looked down timidly and said, "We weren't going to tell anyone for a few weeks."

Patterson, clumsily but with great excitement, dashed over to Jane, quickly hugging her friend before she said, "This is amazing. Congratulations."

"Thanks," Jane nervously smiled. "We're really excited…especially now that Shepherd is out of the picture."

"You could have told us," Tasha said. "I could have gone in for you…protected you."

"I had to face Shepherd," Jane replied, watching as Tasha nodded with understanding.

"Congratulations, man," Reade said, nodding at Weller.

"Thank you," Kurt responded, putting an arm around Jane. "We are _very_ excited."

* * *

After everyone left later that night, Kurt saw Jane staring out the window. "Everything alright?" he asked.

"I thought I'd feel so relieved once Shepherd was gone," Jane commented. "And for the most part, I do, but… Part of me is kind of sad."

"Why?" he asked.

"She was my mother for a while. Roman and I were the only two kids that no one wanted to adopt from the orphanage. Psychologists said we couldn't be rehabilitated…we were killers. She took us in. Gave us a home. I can't imagine where we would have ended up if she hadn't taken us. And I know what she did was wrong, and part of me hates her for it…but some part of me still feels grateful that she gave us a home, no matter how dysfunctional. You must think I'm crazy."

"Not at all," he said. "I get it."

"Maybe what I really miss is the idea of having a mother. One who actually cared about me. I really am glad she can't hurt us anymore."

"I understand…I really do."

"And all of this has made me wonder if I can be a decent mother. Look at my role model. I don't ever want to hurt our child."

"You could never do that," he replied. "You're an amazing person and you're going to be a phenomenal mother. This child will be so lucky to have a mother like you."

* * *

The next morning, there was a knock on the door. When Jane answered, she saw her brother waiting. "Roman!" she happily responded, hugging him for a moment before pulling him toward the door.

"I wanted to see you before we left," he said from the doorway.

"We?" she asked. "Is this other person part of the reason why you want to leave?"

"Part of it," he responded. "Most of it."

Kurt came home, stepping up behind Roman with a small grocery bag. "Are you coming in?" he asked.

Roman entered, carefully watching Weller to make sure he wasn't about to be arrested. Jane gestured for Roman to take a seat and offered him a drink.

Kurt asked, "So what's next for you?"

"There are a lot of people out there who won't be very happy with me if they figure out what I've done," Roman replied. "Shepherd was in charge, but there's no shortage of people waiting to step up and take her place."

"Most of them probably thought you would," Jane added.

"They think I'm dead. I'd like to keep it that way."

"I'll be honest, Roman," Kurt said seriously, "I appreciate what you did…but you've committed a lot of crimes, serious crimes. Under most circumstances, I'd take you into custody."

"He saved our lives," Jane argued protectively.

"I know," Kurt said. "Which is why I said 'under most circumstances'. But I don't have the authority to pardon his crimes."

"Maybe we could make a deal," Roman replied.

"What kind of deal?"

"I can provide intel. Names and locations of the most dangerous operatives and leadership," Roman suggested. "And I can decode some of the tattoos."

"In exchange for?" Kurt questioned.

"Protection for me and my girlfriend, and you help us disappear," Roman replied.

"Do you have to disappear?" Jane asked sadly. "I mean, I get that there are complications, but I've turned my life around. You could too."

"I'm not sure if everyone else is as eager to trust me," her brother explained.

"They'll learn to. I'd love it if you could stay…I'd like to have a brother. And I'd like my baby to have an uncle," she said.

Roman studied her for a moment, thoughts of the past obviously coming to mind. "Congratulations," he said quietly. Roman looked at Kurt, "Do you think you can get us a deal?"

"Your intel could be really valuable. I can't make any promises, but I can ask around."

"I just found my brother again, Kurt. I can't lose him," Jane pleaded.

"I know," Kurt replied. "We'll see what we can do."

"Do you have somewhere safe to hide?" Jane asked.

Roman nodded.

Weller said, "Don't tell us where…We'll give you our numbers. Call in a few days, and we'll update you. Stay out of sight and off the radar."

Jane's hormones were wreaking havoc with her bladder, so she left for the bathroom, leaving Kurt alone with Roman in one of the most awkward silences in history.

"How did you remember me?" Roman asked.

"There was a reverse code for the hypnosis Shepherd used," Weller answered.

"So you and Remy…you remember everything?"

Kurt nodded, looking at his hands, "Yea. Everything."

Roman looked nervous, like perhaps Kurt would change his mind about trying to arrange a deal. "Look, I regret what Shepherd did to both of you after Orion, and that I didn't stop it and—"

"You were a kid," Kurt replied, cutting him off. "That's why…this baby…means a lot to Jane. A lot to both of us. And you could have screwed us, turned us over to Shepherd, and we would have lost everything again, but you didn't. Thank you, for what you did."

Roman nodded subtly. "I won't turn my back on my sister again."

Jane came into the room, hearing the end of the conversation before she placed her hand on Roman's shoulder. "I've missed you," she said, handing back the coin he'd surreptitiously pressed in her hand the day before.

"Honestly, I wasn't sure if you could forgive me for what happened."

"It wasn't you fault, Roman. Shepherd was a master of manipulation. We were just children and we trusted her. I never would have seen through it if I didn't get a chance to start over and have a new life."

Roman was noticeably pained, still suffering from the effects of being trained as a child soldier and years in Shepherd's organization. Jane knew he'd probably need years of counseling and support, but maybe there was help for him.

After Roman left, Jane asked, "Do you think Hark would work with Roman?"

"I dunno. Maybe," Weller replied.

"He needs help."

"Yea, Jane, I…" Kurt paused, trying to think carefully, "Roman is dangerous. He's unstable."

"I know that," she answered, worriedly. "That's why I want to get him help. He cares about me…he loves me. When the time came, he made the right decision. He saved us, and our baby."

"He did. But we need to be careful."

"Can you at least talk to Hark?" she questioned. "See what he thinks?"

Wrapping an arm around her, Kurt said, "For my bride? Anything. And speaking of which…when do you want to make this thing official?"

"When do you?" she asked.

"Tomorrow? Next week? Next month?" he looked at his watch, "I'm free in ten minutes."


	21. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Thank you all for your reviews and for reading. This is the last chapter. I'm considering writing an epilogue or short follow-up piece, but I'm still kind of on the fence about it. I'm sorry this update took so long, I was dealing with some personal issues. Again, thanks for reading!

It certainly wasn't the most lavish or elaborate wedding ever thrown, but a month later, Kurt and Jane renewed their vows before their family and friends. She wore a form fitting dress, some of her tattoos visible along her arms and neck, as well as the tiny curve in her lower abdomen, and Kurt liked that she didn't feel the need to hide anything. She certainly didn't hide the looks of admiration she cast in his direction.

Roman and Kat had spent a few weeks out in Oregon with Hark, undergoing counseling and rehabilitation, but they all flew out to join in the wedding, and Jane was quite obviously happy to see her brother and friends.

They rented a wedding space, a converted factory with tall windows and bare wood rafters that suited both of them. As they walked down the aisle between rows of chairs after they'd exchanged vows, Kurt whispered, "We should have had the reception somewhere else so we could have a little alone time in the limo."

She playfully glanced up, her eyes mischievous and suggestive, and she responded, "Come with me." She stopped briefly, asking Patterson to direct the small gathering of guests to the next room where the reception would be held.

Taking his hand, Jane pulled him through the hall and down the stairs into the basement of the building. There were two rooms down there for the groom and bride to get ready before the ceremony. She dashed into the bride's room and shut the door, quickly pressing the cheap button lock to secure the door. "We have to hurry," she mumbled, still talking as her lips met his.

"Wait," he said, shaking his head to clear his confusion when they broke the kiss, "are you serious?"

"What do you think?" she reached down and deftly unbuttoned his pants and slid his zipper down, allowing her fingers to trace the shape of his shaft as it began to thicken through his boxers. She lifted up on her tiptoes to kiss him softly, lustfully whispering, "I'm appealing to your very deep sense of responsibility. I expect you to perform your husbandly duty… and fuck your wife before something goes horribly wrong and we have to shoot our way out of here."

"Yes ma'am," he grinned while she shoved him back into a chair and stepped over his legs. "Have I ever mentioned how much I enjoy it when you're demanding?" he beamed.

"Wait 'til we're actually on our honeymoon," she purred.

Hitching her dress up over her hips and moving her flimsy excuse for panties to the side, she slowed the pace for a moment while she guided him inside her. They softly groaned together, trying to keep the volume on their verbal responses turned way down. She kept her word though, lingering only for a moment before she picked up the pace. His hands rested somewhat passively on her hips, just soaking up the feeling of her body next to his, the smooth swivels that came in waves, the harsh jut of her hip bone covered with silken skin that sloped slightly upward to her still subtle tummy.

He felt the way she was already pulsing, her sheath slick even as she clamped down on him. "I love how wet you get for me."

She pulled his face to the crook of her neck and gasped, "I love how incredibly hard you get for me."

"And I love how tight you are around me."

"And the way that we fit."

He took her face in his hand, watching as she began to peak, and groaned, "I really, really love you."

His body, fueled by desire, wasn't even really seated in the chair anymore, more hovering over it as it felt like he was chasing her. Her one hand held tightly onto his shoulder, the other kept a firm grip on his tie, refusing to allow him to back away even if he wanted to. In a few more thrapping heartbeats the whole encounter ended just as furiously and passionately as it had begun, and she curled around him, her nose nuzzling against his neck as he lovingly rubbed her back. "I love you, too," she replied, muffled slightly by his body.

"That was unexpected," his cocky smile was evident in his voice.

"Consider yourself warned," she smirked. "We have two weeks alone, and I plan to make the best of it." She lifted her head, looking a little more tired and clearly calmer than she had been a few minutes earlier, and she saw him wince as he looked at her neck. "What?" she asked nervously as she noticed the mild burning sensation that coated her neck from where his beard had scratched against her.

"I'm pretty sure they're going to figure out what we were up to," he commented.

"That's a smart group of people out there…I'll bet they would have figured it out anyway," she replied, tapping his chest before offering a parting kiss and slipping away to fix her dress and makeup.

He was lulling in the chair, taking a moment to enjoy the complete absence of tension in his body, and when she returned, she looked as if she hadn't been writhing in his lap only a few minutes earlier. She shook her head at the state of him, crouching between his knees and tucking him back into his boxers, zipping his pants and pulling his hand until he was standing again. She straightened the rest of his clothes, trying to smooth the crumpled section of tie she'd created with her fist. He looked on interestedly, "I get why I like watching you take off my clothes, but is it weird that I'm kind of turned on by the way you dress me too?"

"We have a party to get to," she reminded him, taking his hand and walking with him to the door.

When they joined the reception, Jane noticed the sea of smiling faces that greeted them. It was almost as if she'd somehow found a rather large, very supportive family, and it wasn't that long ago that she'd been utterly alone. The feeling was foreign, but so pleasant that she knew she could easily become addicted to it. Hark, Sadira and their children were there, the team and Rich, some of Kurt's friends and other members of the FBI, Sarah and Sawyer, and perhaps most exciting of all, Roman was there. Even Roman smiled at her, although he still wasn't as comfortable with happiness as the rest of the group, he seemed to be happy for her.

She couldn't possibly overestimate how wonderful it was to have her brother in her life again. She'd heard of his struggles as he tried to deal with his past and the wounds that had threatened to remove his humanity from him, but he was trying, and that was all that really mattered to Jane. Roman cared enough to try to do the right thing.

While Kurt was talking to one of his friends who'd come to wish them well, Sarah approached. Jane still wasn't quite sure how Sarah felt about her, and the first few seconds of the conversation were tentative at best. When Kurt turned his attention to them, Sarah said, "There's something I'd like to talk to you about."

Jane began to reply, "I can leave-"

"No," Sarah interrupted, "I need to talk to both of you. After you're back from the honeymoon and—"

"What is it, Sarah?" Kurt asked. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Well…Sawyer and I have been talking. He misses you."

"I miss him."

"And I'd like to get to know you better, Jane. I know we haven't spent much time together, but when we've been together, I think we got along pretty well."

"Me too," Jane cautiously answered.

"Sawyer and I would like to move back to New York."

"We can make room," Jane began.

"Oh, no," Sarah shook her head, "newlyweds need their own space, and so do we. Besides, you two have a nursery to decorate. There's another apartment in your building. We'd be close."

"Without having your big brother constantly looking over your shoulder." Kurt's eyes practically gleamed at the thought of having his sister and nephew back, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Sarah replied. "We're family. And, I thought that maybe you could help me with Sawyer—"

"Of course," Kurt and Jane both answered.

"And I could help with my niece or nephew."

"That would be great," Jane replied.

"With your work schedules, I know sometimes you might need some help with the baby."

"Definitely," Kurt answered. "Anything for family."

"Yea," Sarah nodded, flinging her arms around her brother's neck. Turning to Jane, she added, "Kurt has always been there for me. He's an amazing big brother, and a wonderful uncle…and I know he's going to be a great father and husband. Be good to him," she paused, trying to decide if she should hug Jane or not.

"I will. I promise." Jane stepped forward and the two women hugged and Jane said, "I'm really excited to be part of your family."

As the reception went on, Kurt watched Jane out on the dance floor with Sawyer and Lily, the wide grin on her face filling him with a sense of peace that he wasn't familiar with at all. It was, by far, the happiest he'd ever seen her. Her joy was infectious, and Kurt couldn't seem to stop grinning every time he looked at her.

When a slow song began, he saw Sawyer politely invite Jane to dance. The boy held out an elbow to escort her to the correct spot on the floor. Sawyer blushed as he looked up at his new aunt, and Kurt realized his nephew seemed to have a crush. Weller shook his head, "not that I blame him," he muttered aloud.

"What did you say?" Tasha asked.

"Nothing," Kurt countered, standing and walking up to his bride. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked Sawyer.

Sawyer grinned and took off, finding Lily as the two decided to play.

"You look absolutely incredible," Kurt whispered.

"You too," she smiled.

"You know you're really starting to show."

"Right now it just looks like I'm working on a beer gut."

"Funny you should mention beer… That's exactly why I was thinking of naming the kid 'Lord Chesterfield.' Works for a boy or a girl," he teased and waited for her scowl, seeming quite satisfied once she gave it. He shook his head, "You couldn't possibly look more beautiful. Glowing. Everybody knows that's a baby and not the result of Pennsylvania's finest ale."

"Because we told them."

"I don't mind people knowing I knocked you up," he smirked, lifting his eyebrows.

"I think we've already earned quite a rep—" Jane paused as the clanging of glasses from the guests grew louder. She shrugged and grabbed Kurt's face, pulling him in for a kiss that made virtually everyone blush. She backed away, returning to their conversation as if nothing had happened. "That oughtta keep the clanging down for a while."

Weller shook his head and chuckled, "After that kiss, I might start clanging some glasses, too. Can we leave yet?"

She shook her head, "Soon."

She returned to their table for some water, watching as a much older woman came up to steal a dance with Kurt. Roman sat next to Jane and said, "Thank you for helping me. And for trusting me. I don't know if I told you that."

"I know it's hard," Jane replied, putting her hand on Roman's shoulder. "But it's worth it."

"I was able to provide some actionable intelligence. Enough to buy my freedom for a little longer. Your friend Hark…he's a good guy."

"He really is," she agreed.

Kurt sat down at the table and asked, "Does anyone know who that woman was?"

Jane and Roman both shook their heads and Jane said, "I thought she was one of your groupies."

"It's hard to keep track of them all. All part of the glory and intrigue of being in the FBI," Kurt teased.

Roman reached out to shake Kurt's hand and said, "I appreciate your help."

"No problem," Kurt answered.

Before Roman let go, he added, "I'm sure there's no need for me to tell you that if you ever do anything to hurt my sister, I'll snap your neck with my bare hands." Roman smiled at the end, half charming and half threatening.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did," Kurt replied, "but your sister's more than capable of snapping my neck with _her_ bare hands…should the need arise."

Roman's smile widened and his eyes flashed, "That's why I'm sure there's no need for me to tell you," obviously approving of Kurt's response.

"Let's just agree to all avoid breaking necks or hurting each other," Jane argued.

"She always was the smart one," Roman answered without a hint of levity.

The crowd shared food, dancing, wine and beer, and slowly began to thin. Sadira glanced at her watch and approached the couple, watching them whispering something flirtatious and conspiratorial. "It's time to go," she told them. "Hark will drive you and we've arranged for a friend to fly you to your destination."

"Are you serious?" Jane asked.

"Absolutely," Sadira replied. "You two would probably end up investigating some wrongdoing if you flew commercial. This way, Hark and I know our pilot will get you safely to your destination…or nearby. You'll have to take a boat out to the island. You can get some rest and arrive at your honeymoon ready to enjoy yourselves."

Jane hugged her friend and said, "We appreciate everything you've both done for us."

"Enjoy your time together. You deserve it."

* * *

The trip to the airport was short, and soon they were aboard the private jet, tired, but happy. Jane was lazily stretching her legs, having already kicked off her shoes. She leaned against Kurt, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and in some moments it felt like they'd always been like that, fitting together so naturally. She reached up and started to further loosen his tie and pop open a few buttons on his shirt.

The door to the cockpit opened, so Jane stilled her hand, resting her fingers on Kurt's abdomen as she was happy things hadn't gotten any further along before they were disturbed. "Now don't let me interrupt you," a familiar voice said, "just act like I'm not here."

Jane bolted upright and watched as Rich sat down in the seat facing theirs, grinning at them. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"You know you can't leave US soil. You can't even leave New York!" Kurt blurted.

"Technically this plane _is_ US soil."

"Until we land," Kurt argued.

"Always worried with the details," Rich deflected. "I thought you'd be more excited to see me."

"What do you want, Rich?" Jane pushed.

"You know I've never been with a pregnant woman," Rich commented to the air.

"You're not going to break that streak today," Kurt scowled.

"Is it different?" Rich asked. "I mean, she's not huge yet, so logistically it's gotta work, and I've heard those hormones can really make the ladies somewhat…frisky—"

"Is this _really_ why you're here?" Jane said.

"Laser focus, the both of you," Rich answered. "No…I wanted to give you your wedding gift."

"The best gift you could possibly give us would be to stay on this plane and go right back to New York the minute we land," Kurt replied.

"At the very least the plane will need to refuel and the pilot would probably appreciate a quick stretch before we can head back," Rich mused. "Anyway, that's a pathetic excuse for a present. Keep that in mind, Jane, you married a guy who is really not good at giving presents. Don't take it personally."

"Focus," Jane reminded.

"Right," Rich said, taking out a stack of neatly folded papers from his pocket. "I found the man who kidnapped you, and several of those responsible for training child soldiers in South Africa."

"What?" Jane replied, stunned.

"I have connections. I also found the names of the people responsible for killing your parents."

"Thank you," Jane spoke, still a bit shocked.

"There's more. I found enough information to bring most of them up on charges in the US. The ones that are alive, that is. So when you return home they'll all be sitting, neatly gift-wrapped with a bow, right there in FBI lockup. I was going to have them killed, but I know how you both feel about 'the law,'" he accentuated with air quotes. "I know it might seem like it's more of a gift for you, Jane, but knowing Stubbles like I do, he'd waste years trying to get revenge on these dirt bags through legitimate channels, so I'm guessing he's just as happy about it as you are."

Kurt stood, reached his hand out and shook Rich's, irritated when Rich hugged him. "Thank you," Kurt said seriously. "But that doesn't change the fact that you left—"

"Worry, worry, worry. It's like hanging out with Grandma Dotcom again," Rich said. "Stubbles, I'm sure you'll be thinking about me during the honeymoon, not that I blame you, but at least try to relax and enjoy. I promise I'll go right home. You know I love working with you crazy kids."

Jane stood and hugged Rich, taking him by the elbows when she pulled away and saying, with the utmost sincerity, "Thank you, Rich."

He nodded and turned back toward the cockpit, "If you guys want to invite me to stay—," he waited, and then shook his head, "Because I'm highly perceptive, I'm picking up a 'we want alone time' vibe from the two of you."

As Rich disappeared into the cockpit, Jane curled back up against Kurt and gently rested her hand just above his belt. "Just rest," he said, kissing the top of her head as he leaned down. "I'm guessing that's not the last time he's gonna interrupt."

Jane giggled and sighed, slowly drifting off into a long overdue sleep.

* * *

Jane sat on the deck of their rental, trying to allow the reality of a true vacation to take effect. Their bungalow sat on the edge of the bright blue water, the tropical breeze patiently floating over her skin. The next cabin was just barely in sight, so it almost felt like they were the only two people in the world. "So was it worth it?" Kurt asked as he stepped out onto the porch and stood leaning against the railing in front of her.

"Was what worth it?"

"The forms, birth certificates, lawyers…that seemingly eternal process we went through just to be allowed to get married again."

She glanced up, a flicker of a smile appearing, "Without a doubt."

"And now you're really stuck with me. You can't play that whole 'amnesia-name-change' card anymore for a quick annulment."

"Are you panicking a little?" she chuckled.

"Not in the least. I have no doubts."

He came over and bent down, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her. She thought they were going into the bungalow, and she wasn't paying any attention to their exact location since they were busily kissing. For a moment, she wondered why the sun seemed brighter through her eyelids, but before she could even question it, she felt her body falling backward, still tightly held in Kurt's arms. A second later she felt a startling splash into the ocean, water filling her gaping mouth when she tried to yell.

Kurt lifted her back to standing, laughing as he wiped the water away from his face with one broad hand.

At first Jane tried to scowl, but found his laugh infectious, instead smirking, "What was that about?"

"I figured since you liked taking the plunge the other day, you might enjoy another one."

She turned, skating her arm over the top of the water and creating a splash wave that crashed into him before she jumped forward and dunked him. They were there, laughing and frolicking in a time and place where there was no mission or pain, just joy. As he grabbed her sides and found that one elusive spot where she was ticklish, she heard the sound of her own laugh only slightly muted by the sounds of the ocean.

* * *

That evening they sat inside the bungalow, the large windows open, watching the water turn from blues to pinks and oranges as the sun set somewhere out of their view. "It feels weird, doesn't it?" she asked him.

"What does?" he asked.

"We've been running from one thing to the next since we've met. Nothing has been easy, not even getting married. Who thought it would take so much paperwork to marry a man I was already technically married to? So here we are, finally re-married, baby on the way…exactly where I want to be. So why does it feel like we're just getting started?"

"Because we are, Jane. At least I hope…this is only the beginning."

**-The End-**


End file.
